Last Thoughts
by Mad Steph
Summary: A 'what if' story that takes off when Rhett comes back from his extended trip with Bonnie.
1. Last thoughts

**Disclaimer:** Obviously I'm not Margaret Mitchell, therefore I do not own 'Gone with the Wind' or any of its characters.

This is fan fiction, it's just for fun, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** I'm a constructive criticism fiend so feel free to point out where I went wrong and what I need to do to make it all better.

This is my first attempt at 'Gone with the Wind' fan fiction and the only stories I have ever completed are Desperate Housewives ones (not very promising, eh? ), so I hope this doesn't make your eyes bleed.

If it's bad I'll just leave it as a one shot.

This story takes off when Rhett comes back from London with Bonnie and the first line is borrowed from the novel (hence the italics).

--

"_Cheer up. Maybe you'll have a miscarriage."_

It took Scarlett a moment to grasp the meaning of the words that had just been said to her and she could hardly believe it was possible to say such a cruel vile thing.

She quickly regained her composure so much so Rhett didn't even realise her bewilderment, and lifted her right hand to strike him hard across his smug face.

She wanted him to feel the same shock and pain she had just experienced when he had uttered the unutterable, words, she thought, a man should never say to a woman, and even less his wife.

Unfortunately for Scarlett, Rhett anticipated her intention and moved just enough to stay out of her reach and save himself from the collision between his cheek and her palm.

This caused her to start loosing her balance, immediately she knew she was going to fall down the long and imposing staircase.

Her gut told her she was going to die, that her time had come, that nobody, no matter how strong they were, would survive such a fall.

In her last moments, her thoughts went towards her unborn child, the only baby she had ever looked forward to bringing into the world.

She felt deep regret, she didn't want this baby to die, and she most certainly didn't want to die either. She had survived too much –war, hunger, and tragedy- to end this way, a small body in a heap of fabric lying ungracefully at the bottom of the stairs.

She wished she had reacted differently to Rhett's words, especially since she knew she had given him exactly what he had been looking for by trying to slap him.

Just as she felt she was ready to face her tragic ending, he reached out and caught her wrist and pulled her with great strength to bring her back out of harm's reach, on the landing.

He held on to her tightly as she landed next to him, their bodies grazing each other's, so close they could feel the other's rapid breathing on their faces.

For a moment, both pairs of eyes shared a silent exchange of worry, regret, fear of what could have been, and awkward tenderness.

But only for a moment, just as soon as it had happened the black eyes retrieved their usual mask, the shield that protected their owner from his wife, and the green eyes just as quickly turned back into the piercing glare –he had become accustomed to- filled with a mix of hatred and what appeared to be confusion over the last words that had been spoken.

It was then he chose to release her from his firm grip. She took two careful steps backwards, rubbing her now bruised wrist with her other hand.

After a few seconds of uneasy hesitation, she rushed in a near run to her bedroom, violently slamming the door behind her.

She breathed heavily as she leaned against the door, resting her forehead on the cool wood.

How could he say such a thing, she wondered.

Rhett, who was so fond of Bonnie, Wade, Ella and children in general, didn't want this child.

To her surprise, she was filled with deep and bitter sorrow, but not for long. She was going to spite Rhett, and the best way to do that, she thought, was to prove him wrong.

She was going to have this child, and love it with all her body and soul, she was going to show Rhett that she could be a good mother, the best Atlanta will ever see.

She would make him soon regret his evil words, he was going to be pea-green with envy when he would realise the bond she would share with this child to come.

She smiled, her plan was flawless.

Rhett remained at the top of the stairs for a little while after she left. Allowing himself, now that he was alone, to think back on the event that had just taken place.

He let out a sigh of relief at what had been the final outcome of the situation and not it's alternative.

He could hardly believe he had said what he had said to her.

"_Cheer up. Maybe you'll have a miscarriage."_

It made him shiver.

Scarlett or not, pleased or not about being with child, it had been cruel and uncalled for. She always managed to drive him to the edge, no matter what she did, he thought.

At least he had been able to prevent the worst from happening. As much as she drove him to insanity, he didn't know what he would do without her, especially knowing that he was partly, if not fully responsible for her death.

It was only then that the full impact of the news reached him.

She was going to have another baby, his baby. He was going to be a father again. Excitement filled every limb of his body. He could barely conceal the feelings of pure and utter joy and happiness he was experiencing.

He was so lightheaded with delight, he might faint, he joked to himself.

One thing he was sure of, he couldn't leave her now. He pulled a cigar out of his breast pocket and headed downstairs to order someone to go and retrieve his luggage from the train station.


	2. Child's Play

**Author's Note: **Thank you for all your kind reviews it's really gratifying, makes me feel great (Keep'em coming).

And I would like to reassure sohhkb, I have no intention of making the baby into twins or calling anyone Gerald.

Since this isn't a one-shot anymore, I'm going to have to find another name for it … "Last Thoughts" is the name of chapter one …

I'm sorry this took so long, it took me forever to type it up and to get it right, and I still don't think its good enough, something about it seems off to me, if you can spot it, please tell me, so I can correct it, it's bugging me.

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That night Scarlett lay in her bed deep in thought, she couldn't sleep, she kept reliving the events of the day over and over again in her mind. She had been so happy when she had heard Bonnie and Rhett in the hall that morning; she had missed the little girl tremendously.

For a brief moment, she had been happy to see Rhett, she had missed him too, but now she felt like a fool for having felt that way.

"_A cat is a better mother than you."_

The words said before he had left with her daughter all those months ago still bruised her ego, brought a bitter taste to her mouth and made her heart beat faster with rage.

The more she thought about it, the more determined she was to prove Rhett Butler wrong and pleasure tingled down her spine and through her body at the mere thought of it. She couldn't wait to see the look on his smug arrogant face, that day couldn't come soon enough, she thought.

She had to elaborate a strategy. True, she still had plenty of time left, she wasn't even showing yet, but pregnancies don't last forever, and the sooner her plan was ready, the sooner she couldn't concentrate on other more important things, like her store, her mills and Ashley.

The only flaw in her plan was that she wasn't a good parent; she didn't know how to be one. Her own mother had said to her before Wade was born that motherhood was something that came naturally, you didn't need to learn how to be a mother because you became one the moment your infant took its first breath.

She had witnessed this with Melly, who had instantly become a role model for motherhood the minute Beau was born.

But she, Katie Scarlett O'Hara Kennedy Butler, who had been widowed twice, supported a whole family while working like a field hand, hadn't been licked by the Yankees, survived poverty and hunger, and who had set up a successful business with her mills, had never felt that warm rush of emotion that is suppose to take over your body and soul the minute you hear that first cry.

It's true that she had wanted none of her children, and despite the fact that this time round, she was actually looking forward to bringing her child into the world, she feared that this birth would be no different. She sighed deeply, not knowing what to do. She would think about it tomorrow, with that she rolled over and slipped into a deep sleep.

When she woke up the next day, all was clear: she had other children and plenty of free time on her hands, she could practice on them and be ready by the time the baby came.

Then she remembered that she had tried to spend time with Wade and Ella during Rhett and Bonnie's absence, and that she had quickly come to the conclusion that she couldn't put up with Ella's silliness and her inability to focus on something for more than a minute and that she couldn't stand the fear she saw in her only son's eyes whenever she spoke to him.

That left only Bonnie and despite the fact she was Scarlett's favourite child, she was well aware that her daughter preferred her father by far. But she had no choice; she would have to make it work with Bonnie.

"Who knows, perhaps Bonnie will end up liking me better than her father, which would give Rhett a taste of his own medicine," she thought as a grin appeared on her face.

* * *

Later that day, Scarlett was in the study adding up a long column of figures. She was lost in deep concentration when Bonnie burst into the room.

"Mother! Where's Daddy?" the child demanded.

"He's not here," Scarlett replied barely lifting her head from the papers she was studying.

"But I want to play!" the little girl said sternly.

"Surely you haven't grown tired of your new kitten yet," Scarlett commented still very concentrated on her work.

"I want to play! I want Daddy now!" she shouted.

Sensing a tantrum on the way, Scarlett cursed Rhett under her breath for having spoiled Bonnie so much that when the tiniest thing wasn't to her liking, she would have a fit until everything was the way she wanted it.

"Bonnie, be a good girl for mother and go and play with your dolls," Scarlett said dismissing the child.

As the words flew out her mouth, she realised that this was a golden opportunity, she could benefit from her husband's absence to enter her daughter's good graces. Just as Bonnie was about to grasp the door knob, Scarlett pilled her papers up in a corner of the desk and said "Bonnie, if you want, mother can play with you?"

The child turned around instantly and stared at Scarlett with a look of total disbelief.

"Do you want me to play with you?" Scarlett repeated.

"Really mother?" Bonnie asked.

"Yes, would you like that precious?"

"Yes, mother, I really would."

"So, what would you like to do?" She said in the softest tone she could manage.

"Indians," Bonnie replied.

Scarlett had secretly wished that Bonnie would choose a quiet and calm game such as playing with her dolls or her tea set like any little girl, but she was truly her mother's daughter and so it was only natural that she would want to play different things than any other little girl.

She knew better than to try and argue, because she was fully aware of what would happen if Bonnie didn't get her way, she would start crying and screaming, and the only person who would be able to calm her down would be her father, and that was the last thing Scarlett wanted.

* * *

When Rhett Butler walked through his front door later that afternoon, he wanted to go to his room and change his clothes before going to spend some time with Bonnie.

He had had trouble concentrating on his work all day, his thoughts kept drifting away to the new baby, and he couldn't believe Scarlett hadn't sent for him. Surely she would have been worried that he wouldn't come back soon enough and that the old guard would doubt he was really the father of the child. Then he had thought that maybe he wasn't, but he had immediately banished that to the back of his mind, Scarlett was shameless but not an adulteress and Ashley Wilkes, the only man that she would ever succumb to, was too much of a wimp to ever even dream of doing anything like that.

He swiftly made his way upstairs and headed for his bedroom, he was startled by the cry that came from the nursery and by the uncontrolled giggling that followed. He recognised his daughter's voice and wondered what his darling little Bonnie was up to. Unable to resist temptation he went to the nursery and nearly died of shock at the scene he witnessed through the door that had remained ajar.

Bonnie was dressed up in the dress she called her 'Indian dress' because it was torn and had been patched up, she had a blue feather in her hair and paint on her face, but it wasn't seeing his daughter this way that surprised him, it was the sight of her playmate that had nearly caused Rhett a heart attack.

Scarlett had her long thick hair braided into two plaits which ran long down her back, and a red feather had been carefully placed on her head, she had two black lines on each of her cheeks and her wrists and ankles had been bound together with ribbons, she was Bonnie's hostage, this was a costume and a situation he would have bet all his money on never seeing his wife in.

He carefully remained out of their sight, he didn't want Scarlett to find out he was there and end the game. Playing with Bonnie was so unlike her, he needed to find out exactly what she was up to. There was always an endgame, a hidden purpose to everything she did and he needed to know what exactly it was.

Scarlett must have done something wrong or at least not to Bonnie's liking, because the next thing he heard was the little girl saying in a harsh tone "Daddy's much better and more fun than you."

Rhett smiled, he loved being reminded that his daughter loved him and enjoyed his company more than her mother's, and then he caught a glimpse of the look in Scarlett's eyes, it tore his heart, he could clearly see the hurt in them, she looked so young and vulnerable, almost human, if only she really cared and it wasn't just jealousy, he thought.

Bonnie pulled the feather out of her hair and threw it at Scarlett, who immediately scolded her "Don't throw things Bonnie; otherwise I'll get Mammy to give you a good spanking."

"Why can't you girls just play nice?" Rhett chuckled as he stepped into the room.

Scarlett looked up at him, taken aback by his presence, shocked he had caught her dressed like this. "Have you been eavesdropping again Mr. Butler? You seem to enjoy listening in to conversations that don't concern you and are none of your business," she stated.

"Oh, but if I had always made my presence known I would have missed hearing the most interesting things a man has ever had the opportunity of hearing and I more than probably wouldn't have been swept off my feet by your charms, my pet," he said sarcastically.

"Wouldn't that have been a shame," she answered back with equal irony.

Sick of being left out Bonnie asked "Daddy, will you play with us?"

Not wanting to be trapped in such a situation with her husband, Scarlett blurted out "I have to go and check that everything is ready for dinner and straighten up, I look a right fright dressed like this."

"I think you look as beautiful as ever," Rhett said softly and for an instant as she looked into his eyes, she nearly believed he was being honest, until he added, "Mother needs more practice before all three of us can play together."

Scarlett stood up, patted her daughter on the head and made way for the door.

"Make sure she gets cleaned up before supper," she told Rhett coldly just as she exited the nursery.

* * *

That night as Scarlett drifted off into a deep slumber she thought about how much harder it was going to be to stay patient with Bonnie than she thought. The child really needed some discipline, even she, herself, hadn't been that dreadful as a child, she thought.

She needed advice from another woman, but none of the old guard would give her the time of day except Melly. That's what she would do, she would go to Melly and get advice off her, and she was after all the best mother she knew.

And with that thought she slipped off into the land of dreams.


	3. Friends in Need

**Author's Note:** Sorry for taking so long to update, I had a couple of family problems and then I tried to post this up quickly, but I soon found out that I need to put my ideas on paper with a pen before I even trying to type anything up.

Thank you so much for the lovely reviews, you are all really fantastic, it makes me feel guilty for not updating fast enough.

And yes, I do have trouble writing Rhett, I just don't relate to him at all, and I think that my attempt at getting into his mind in the last chapter contributed to making it worse than the previous one.

Well Rhett isn't in this one so hopefully, it will be better.

R&R please.

* * *

Having grown up with for only sibling her brother, Charles and for sole female companion her delightfully dizzy aunt PittyPat, Melanie Wilkes thought of Scarlett as her sister, and she would stand by her no matter what happened.

Melanie was so blinded by her love for the plantation belle that she couldn't see her many flaws, and whenever she did see them, she would always find excuses for her friend.

She was totally devoted to the woman who had risked her own safety to save her and her son's life, who had worked harder than any field hand to ensure they had enough to eat and who had expected nothing in return.

Melanie thought Scarlett was driven by the same forces as herself: honour, love for her family and kindness.

Ever since they had been girls, she had openly admired Scarlett O'Hara, much to her cousins India and Honey's dismay. Melanie stood in awe before the spirit that inhabited the other girl as she chased the boys and climbed up trees, and thought that if she was that way, it was because God had gifted her with twice more life than any other person.

If Melanie had been the kind of person to display envy, she would have been jealous of Scarlett, just like all the other girls had been and still were, but there wasn't a jealous bone in her body. True she had allowed herself one moment in which she sank into sin just after Bonnie Blue Butler's birth, during which she had wished the little girl where her own, but she had discarded those thoughts as soon as they had entered her mind.

Melanie Hamilton Wilkes was the kindest person in Atlanta and all the rest of the old guard respected her and her opinion, and would have probably followed her, if she had seen fit to jump off a cliff.

Melanie was unable to see the flaws in those she loved unconditionally. Ashley Wilkes and Scarlett Butler were one of the lucky few who entered into that category.

Ashley Wilkes was the love of Melanie's life. As far back as she could remember she had always known that she would marry him, and as the years had gone by she had built a strong bond of love for the man who became her husband and the father of her son. She could no longer picture her life without him.

Scarlett was the girl and woman she would have liked to have been, beautiful, too charming for her own good, driven by a huge will which prevented her from being afraid of going to whatever extreme was necessary to obtain what she wanted or needed.

Scarlett, born O'Hara, half Irish, half French, but brought up to be the perfect Southern Belle, who had been married three times, was the kind of person who would be remembered long after her death even if it was only in legend, Melanie chuckled to herself as she finished a row of knitting comfortably seated in her front room.

She was interrupted in her thoughts by the servant who had discretely entered the parlour to announce the arrival of a caller.

"Miss Melanie, Miss Scarlett is at the door, she's here to see you," she said.

"Well don't leave her outside, show her in, thank you," Melanie smiled.

How funny, she thought, when you speak of the devil …

As soon as Scarlett had entered the room, Melanie cast her knitting onto a nearby table and went to greet her friend with a hug and a kiss.

"Scarlett, darling, I was just thinking about you. You look absolutely lovely today, is that a new dress? Green is really your colour, if you were only allowed to wear one colour for the rest of your lifetime; you should pick green, and that shade of it."

"Yes Melly, it's a new dress. Bonnie picked it and brought it back for me from her trip with Rhett," Scarlett confessed.

"Little Bonnie is back? And Captain Butler as well?"

Scarlett merely nodded her answer.

"Oh darling, you must be so happy! I know just how much you have missed both of them," Melanie said.

Scarlett sighed, "Yes I missed my little Bonnie Blue very much."

"And Captain Butler too darling," Melanie said with a knowing glance.

Scarlett chose to ignore this last comment and sat herself down on the settee next to Melanie.

"I just came over here to tell you," Scarlett began. "That I will not be going to the mills or the store for a while, so you can make plans to occupy your mornings with other things."

"But why darling?" Melanie protested. "I know how much you love the mills and the store and enjoy going there everyday and you know that I don't mind going with you …"

"Yes, Melly, you're very kind, and I'm very grateful, it's just that I can't go to the mills anymore because," she inhaled deeply, "I'm going to have a baby."

Both women turned a light shade of pink.

"Oh, Scarlett dear, that's wonderful news," Melanie said genuinely. "I'm so happy for you! Captain Butler must be overjoyed, he loves children so much."

Scarlett sunk deeper into the cushions of the settee and turned her eyes away from Melanie's.

"Scarlett, I know we shouldn't talk about such things, it isn't proper, but you're the only one with who I would dare speak like this and you know how much I love babies, what do you think you will have this time? A boy or a girl?"

"How should I know Melly? It's not as if the baby has sent me a telegram to tell me," Scarlett snapped, but her growing curiosity forced her to continue. "I never knew with Wade, Ella or Bonnie, do women usually know what they're going to have before the baby comes? Did you know Melly?"

"I don't know about other ladies Scarlett, I wouldn't dare to ask them. But when it was Beau, I just knew at the bottom of my heart and soul that he would be a boy. I was sure that I would give Ashley a son, even if it was the last thing I did."

Scarlett was immediately filled with a pang of jealousy, which took control over her mind and body. She should have been the one to give Ashley a son, or rather sons, yes; she would have most certainly given Ashley Wilkes a handful of strong sturdy boys.

Driven by the ulterior motive of her visit, which was to obtain mothering advice from Melanie, she quickly let go of her sinful thoughts and forced herself to shed a tear and start crying, "Melly, I'm such an awful horrible mother. I don't deserve to have children. I don't even know if I'm having a baby boy or a baby girl."

Melanie quickly put her arm around her friend's shoulders, she felt guilty about bringing this on, "Don't be silly darling. There's no harm in not knowing, and besides you are a good mother."

"Melly, even you know what you just said is total nonsense," she let out a strangled cry. "Wade is terrified of me, I can see it in his eyes, I have no patience to deal with Ella, she's too dizzy for my liking and Bonnie, my precious Bonnie, prefers her father."

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry for having upset you so much, I didn't mean …"

"It's not your fault, Melly," Scarlett cut in. "It's all my own doing, I was never there, always absent during their baby years, they grew up without me."

"But, you were busy making sure they had a roof over their heads and food on the table, without you most of us would have perished after the war."

"Still Melly, I would give all my past achievements up, if I could become half the mother you are," Scarlett hiccupped looking at Melanie with teary eyes.

"But I have only one child to tend to darling, you have three," Melanie reasoned.

"Don't be modest Melanie, I've seen you take care of my three in addition to your Beau and you did a better job at it than I would with only one of the children. You are the best mother I know."

"Well Scarlett, you could always learn …" Melanie suggested.

"How?" Scarlett asked dramatically. "Mother always said that you didn't need to learn how to be a good mother. It was the most natural thing for a woman; we were put on earth to be mothers."

"Where there's a will, there's a way, darling. And I for one know that you have the strongest willpower in the South, and that you are the best at everything you take on," Melanie stated before adding, "And I will help you."

"Oh really Melly? You would do that for me? You are far too kind. I do not deserve a friend like you," Scarlett said, grabbing the other woman's hands into her own.

"You are my sister Scarlett. You saved my life and my son's and took care of me and I will never forget that and I will be eternally grateful. And anyway, what else would you and I do with all those free mornings, now that we are not going to spend them at the mill or the store anymore."

Melanie smiled at Scarlett, who immediately stopped weeping and returned the smile.

Scarlett's heart swelled with satisfaction: she had obtained exactly what she had come for, her plan was going perfectly.


	4. Q&A or lack of

**Author's Note: **I'm so sorry for taking ages to update … (I always seem to be saying that). In my defence, I was away for a fortnight and I've had trouble with this chapter, I wrote something, then it seemed as if I was going too fast, so I wrote an intermediary chapter, which I ended up hating, so then I modified some things, and merged two ideas and I'm still far from satisfied, but I can't seem to make it right.

It lacks fluidity and it seems to go everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

Thank you for all the fabulous reviews, you are all the best possible readers I could ever have wished to have.

By the way … Do any of you know of any decent (updated often) Gone with the Wind (creative) Live Journal communities?

* * *

A daily routine took over Scarlett and Melanie's lives over the following weeks.

Scarlett no longer made her calls to the lumber mills or the store, instead every morning she would force herself to spend time with each of her children and every afternoon, except Sundays, Melanie would turn up on the doorstep of the Butler's Home accompanied by Beau.

While the children played together in the nursery or the garden if the weather was nice, the two women would talk over tea and coffee about everything and nothing in particular, but the one recurrent conversation topic was children.

As the days went by, Melanie asked Scarlett question, as if she was monitoring the progress of her friend's mothering skills.

One afternoon, Rhett had decided to cut his working day short, he felt as if in his efforts to avoid the child's mother, he had been neglecting Bonnie lately.

As he thought about it on the way home, he realised that he wasn't the only one avoiding his spouse. Scarlett had also been trying to stay out of his way, every time they had found themselves in each other's company; she had come up with a reason or an excuse to take her leave.

It's not as if during the short time they had been married either of them had ever sought the other's companionship, but during the good times, they had never fled from it. Funnily enough the knowledge of this bruised his ego, even if he was as much to blame as she was.

He was welcomed by a cold silence as he walked through the imposing front door, he was surprised and disappointed by the absence of Bonnie's squeals of delight provoked by seeing him home early.

As he made his was through the horror house he called home, he heard the soft cries of children playing in the garden and set of in the right direction.

He approached the open back door and stumbled upon a conversation that he knew she would never have let him be privy to. He seemed to be eavesdropping on his wife an awful lot these days, he thought.

"… and Wade seems to be warming up to you every day a little more," Mrs Wilkes soft voice said.

"Is that what you really think Melly, or are you just saying that to make me happy? Because he looks just as terrified of me as he always has been," Scarlett sighed, a hint of sadness clearly audible in her tone.

"No darling, I can't lie to you, when you're attention is focused on one of the other children or something else, he looks at you with pure devotion, love and admiration. And your girls simply adore you. Ella, bless the child, is in awe every time you speak to her, and Bonnie, well she tries really hard to be just like you," Melanie reassured her friend.

"Oh, Melly, I really do hope it will be easier with this child, and that it'll take to me straight away."

"Of course it will darling, you'll be its mother," Melanie smiled.

"I really hope you're right. I don't think I could bear having another child who loved its father so much more than me," Scarlett confessed.

As Melanie reached her arm out and delicately placed her hand on Scarlett's, a piercing cry broke the peaceful tranquillity of the afternoon, "Daddy!" Bonnie cried out. "Daddy, you're home, I missed you so much."

She picked herself up from the ground clumsily and she ran, as fast as her short legs would take her to her father, her arms up in the air ready for him to pick her up.

A look of shock took over Scarlett's face and Melanie, blushed, unsure of what Captain Butler had overheard.

"Why good afternoon Mrs Wilkes, it's a pleasure to see you," he said as he gathered his young daughter into his arms, bent down and softly kissed his wife on the cheek, the most intimate gesture they had shared since the night they had conceived the child she was carrying.

Scarlett stared at him with such intensity, he knew she was fighting the urge to ask him what the hell he was doing home at this time but she kept her cool in front of Melanie and offered a very forced smile.

"Good afternoon to you, Captain Butler. How charming of you to leave the office early to come and enjoy the sunshine with your family," Melanie beamed. "Well, it was nice talking to you Scarlett, but I'm afraid I must take my leave," she added, wanting to leave husband and wife alone.

"Oh Melly, you don't have to leave," Scarlett blurted out; she didn't want to be left alone with Rhett.

"No Mrs Wilkes, don't feel the need to rush out the door just because I decided to come home early and interrupt your afternoon," Rhett said.

"Really, I must go. I promised Mrs Meade I'd call on her this week, and I have a few errands to run before I go home," Melanie insisted. "But I will see you tomorrow, Scarlett", she smiled touching her friend's forearm very lightly.

She quickly summoned Beau by her side, said her goodbyes and promptly left the Butler's home, leaving Scarlett and Rhett in each other's company.

Back in the garden, Rhett put Bonnie gently down on the ground.

"Now Bonnie, go and play with your brother and sister, I have to speak with Mother," he told the child.

"But Daddy …" she began.

Much to Scarlett's surprise, Rhett put an end to Bonnie's fussing before it had even begun by using a stern tone to say, "Bonnie, if you're a good girl and do as you are told, I will take you and your pony out for a ride on Saturday."

The little girl seemed satisfied with the compromise, at least for the time being, and skipped on to the lawn towards Wade and Ella.

Rhett sat down on the bench next to Scarlett; he could sense every muscle in her being become tense as their bodies go closer to the other's.

After seconds of silence that seemed to pass like hours, she could take no more and burst out, "What are you doing here?"

"Sitting next to you, on a bench, in the garden of the house I built for you, trying to enjoy a nice afternoon," he replied.

"Don't try and be smart with me Rhett Butler," she hissed. "You know what I mean, you have been staying out to God only knows what time, doing God only knows what every night since you came back from your time away with Bonnie, why are you home in the middle of the day."

"Believe what you wish to believe Mrs Butler, but I honestly came home early, because I missed spending time with my daughter, if you spent some time with her and tried to get to know her, you would realise she has quite a charming personality," he retorted with an emphasis on the 'my' before 'daughter', which didn't go unnoticed by Scarlett.

"So that why you were hiding behind the door eavesdropping on my conversation with Melly," she snapped.

"That was a simple matter of coincidence my pet," he smirked.

"Yes, just like the time you were spying on Bonnie and I in the nursery," she said full of herself.

"Yes, as a matter of fact is was. I would also like to inform you, my dear, and this may come as a shock to you, but the world and my thoughts do not revolve around you. I do not spend my time thinking about you, and I could not care less if you decided to prance around the town in your birthday suit," he said smugly. "I, on the other hand, have an interesting question for you, what are you doing home in the middle of the day, Mrs Butler? Shouldn't you be touring your beloved mill, furiously batting your eyelashes at Mr Wilkes and getting the poor old man all flustered?"

"You are so intent on making all Atlanta believe that you are an honourable gentleman," she spat. "If only they could see and hear you now, all your hopes at being regarded by everyone as a respectable person would vanish into thin air. You are the vilest most despicable human being I have ever set my eyes on in my entire life! How dare you speak to me in such a manner while I am carrying your child?" She said as she stood up and stormed into the house slamming the door behind her on the way.


	5. Rumours

**Author's Note**: No you're not hallucinating, I'm actually updating. nods furiously

Thanks to everyone who takes time to review, it's really rewarding, I'm very grateful.

Anyway, here is chapter 5 (I've never been this far with a fic …).

It's seems a bit shorter, but that's because there's less dialogue. I have to confess I like it better than the last chapter, maybe because I don't feel like I'm jumping all over the place. What do you think?

And you shouldn't have to wait too long for chapter 6, it's practically written (in my head).

* * *

He reached for his half empty glass and quickly gulped down the auburn liquid, before reaching yet again for the nearly empty whisky bottle on the corner of the table and filling his glass once more.

As he nursed the alcohol container in his hand close to his heart, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering and got lost thinking back on the events that had taken place that very day.

This afternoon had brought to his knowledge the fact that Scarlett didn't spend her afternoons at the lumber mills anymore, chasing, like a hungry tigress its next meal, after Mr Ashley Wilkes.

He allowed himself to wonder for a brief moment if all this had any real signification or not. Could it possibly mean that she had finally grown up, come to her senses and realised that there was no hope for a future between her and the _'oh so very honourable'_ gentleman she had worshiped for over a decade?

He quickly snapped out of his reverie, of course her new habits had nothing to do with her discovering that her infatuation over Ashley was nothing more than something that had become a habit over the years, she would forever be blind to that fact, her love for him was the last string that tied her back to her childhood and the Old South, he didn't know if she would ever be ready to give that up.  
She was probably just desperately trying to grasp the shreds of her torn reputation with the sole purpose of mending it.

She wasn't doing anything he, himself, hadn't done, he had just about licked the boot of every old cat in Atlanta when Bonnie was a baby to be regarded, for the first time in decades, as a respectable citizen of Atlanta.

Just why she was trying to regain the respect of the Old Guard, he wasn't sure, she had never really cared for them or of what they thought about her –he had his share of responsibility in that, he had taught her well, in some aspects the student had outrun the master.

After Scarlett had rushed off in her usual fashion and locked herself in her chambers, he had been left alone with the children; he had occupied himself and his mind by joining them in their games, telling them stories about pirates and battleship, and all three of them sat around him, their eyes full of wonder.

Strangely enough, and to his surprise, he had discovered, when Scarlett had had Wade, that he was rather fond of children. Before then, he had always assumed that not being a marrying man also implied that he wasn't and had no interest on being a father figure. But over the years, he had developed a special bond with Wade, then Ella, he had turned out to be the only constant male presence, apart from Ashley Wilkes, in their lives.

He loved children's innocence and their lack of preconceived opinions about others, it was a case of '_be kind to me, and I'll be kind to you in return'_, social backgrounds, religion, wealth and even race held no importance in their eyes.

He could honestly say that the day Bonnie Blue was born was the happiest of his life. He was finally a father; he had felt accomplished, fully satisfied, he was responsible for the presence of another being in this world.

Ever since he had taken his first glance at his small daughter, he had protected her, cherished her, spoilt her, and made sure she had everything the world could offer at her entire disposition.

Today was the first time he had realised that he had also shielded her from something else –her mother. He had never imagined for one second that Scarlett would ever bear a grudge against him for preventing her from bonding with Bonnie. He had always assumed that she would be more than thankful for it; after all she didn't like children. She didn't even want Bonnie. If he had let her have her way, their daughter would more than likely never have been born.

No, he reasoned, Scarlett couldn't possibly resent him because Bonnie preferred him to her, it was just a façade, it had to be, an act she put on in front of Mrs Wilkes to appear more maternal and ladylike.

Despite all this, he was happier than he had been in a long time; Scarlett's pregnancy and the prospect of being a father again provided him with a sense of plenitude.

Scarlett had seemed genuinely hurt by what he had said to her.

The more he thought about things, the more unclear they seemed, although, it didn't occur to him that his lack of understanding might be due to the generous amounts of liquor he had consumed that evening.

Maybe this time round, Scarlett was going to make an effort and do things differently for this baby. Had he really managed to hurt her to that extent? Had he finally managed, after years and years of trying, to pierce through that stone cold heart of hers?

He couldn't believe it; it had to be another one of her games, yet another attempt to play him like a fool again.

But those tears had seemed so real.

If he listened to his heart and not his head, he would be at that horror they called home this very instant, on his knees, pining on the other side of her locked bedroom door, like a lovesick puppy, begging for her forgiveness, her love and better things to come –it was a damn bloody good thing he was a man of reason and not one of sentiment.

Instead, he was here, drowning his feelings in liquor, following the path his mind told him to and this time it warned him not to act like a blind idiot and not to fall for her and her charms again, even though deep down all he wanted was to be with her. She would only ever make him miserable.

His mind ramblings were suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice that nearly always soothed his pain and worries, "Rhett, what's the matter?"

Belle Watling had been one of the very few things in Rhett Butler's life that he didn't have to worry about, no matter how long he was away for, what he had been away doing, he could always count on her to greet him warmly. He trusted her, she was his friend, although he knew deep down that she dreamed of being something more. He had no problem discussing what troubled him with her, which is why he told her everything, from his return with Bonnie to Scarlett's pregnancy.

"What shall I do Belle? Should I just go on living as usual? Should I try and make peace with her and start fresh? I'm sure if we just … I mean, Belle, the woman is carrying my baby after all?" he asked.

"How can you be so sure it's your child she's having?" the woman questioned raising her eyebrow ever so slightly.

"Belle …" Rhett began.

"I know what you're going to say Rhett, but I'm just telling you what I have heard. A woman like me is privy to a great deal of things other women aren't and I'm a very good listener, you know that," she said quickly.

Rhett gave her a questioning look, urging her to continue, curious to hear what she had to say.

"Recently I've been spending my evenings with one of Atlanta's finest gentlemen and he seemed to be pretty sure of what he was saying, you know how his kind likes to go on about idle gossip after … as if it made their cheating less sinful," she was rambling now, she was slightly uneasy, sweat was starting to build up behind her collar, she knew just to what extent Rhett loved his wife, even if he wasn't ready to admit it himself.

"Will you just get to the point Belle," Rhett said firmly.

"Yes, well, he suggested and he was pretty damn sure of himself, that your wife, Scarlett, had been intimate with Mr Wilkes."

Rhett immediately refuted the idea in his head before saying out loud, "Scarlett may be one of the most, if not the most, selfish, manipulative cold hearted woman to have walked the streets of Atlanta, but she is certainly not the kind who would commit adultery. It's the way she way brought up, she may have discarded most of the proper upbringing her Mother gave her, but parts of it still linger in the depths of her soul. She couldn't give herself physically to another man than her husband, she just not that kind of woman."

Belle took this last remark as a jibe at her and her profession and retorted, "And apparently she doesn't even give herself to him either, otherwise he wouldn't seek my company so very often."

Rhett felt like he had been slapped in the face, he looked at Belle in disgust, long enough for her to realise that she had just done some serious damage to their relationship. They had a silent agreement not to discuss together the subject of his lack of intimacy with his wife, she had crossed the line, and he wanted her to feel bad for it.

Without adding another word, he quickly finished the remaining whisky in his glass, grabbed his coat and his hat and left the rooms, showered under Belle's distant pleas of forgiveness.

He mounted his horse and set off in direction of his home. He enjoyed the tingling feeling the cool night air left on his cheeks; it gave him the clearness of mind he needed to think.

He realised that it didn't really matter that he was sure that his wife and Mr Wilkes had never shared more than an embrace, what was really important was what the rest of the population of Atlanta thought –and they thought his wife was an adulteress, nothing better than a vulgar whore.  
They had never liked Scarlett, she was too modern for them, she was their scapegoat, the rumours about her must have spread like flees on a dog, the old cats must be feasting on Scarlett's misery. No matter how hard Melanie Wilkes tried to protect her friend, it was a lost battle if she was the only one fighting it.

This thought disturbed him greatly, first of all it seriously bruised his male pride and made him appear as a cuckold, and a cuckold, Rhett Butler certainly wasn't. Secondly it put his precious little Bonnie's reputation in jeopardy, and it weakened her position in society. He didn't even want to think about what harm these rumours would do to the baby, especially if people had doubts about who its father was.

As Peachtree Street came into view, he was sure of one thing, he had to repair the damage done to the Butler name before it was too late, but not tonight, the night was still young and going home now, would put him at the risk of running into Scarlett, and he couldn't face her, not now. He let the horse walk right past his house and continued into the dark of the night, in search of another bar.


	6. For better or for worse

**Author's Note:** Thanks to all my reviewers!  
Here's the next chapter, hope it's worth the wait.

Supper had went well, or as well as it could possibly go

Supper had went well, or as well as it could possibly go. Scarlett sat at her usual spot at the table, Bonnie on her right and Wade and Ella opposite them. The little conversation that had punctuated the meal had been provided by Bonnie, the other three remained in an awkward silence.

It had been a quiet night, she thought, as she carefully brushed her hair.

The children were now safely in their bed, and sleeping soundly. She had made sure the light had been left in Rhett's room, where Bonnie slept –that was another thing she was going to have to put an end to soon, she had to get her daughter out of Rhett's room, it was just not proper.

Before retreating to her bedroom, she had dismissed Pork and all the other servants for the evening, so the house was filled with an unusual silence.

She lay the brush down on the vanity table, and went to bed and slid between the sheets, abandoning her wrapper on the floor.

She quickly slipped into a deep and dreamless slumber.

She awoke abruptly, after what seemed like only minutes of rest but had been in fact hours, by the sound of something falling and smashing into thousands of pieces on the floor.

She sat up in her bed; all senses immediately awake, and searched the darkness for the point of origin of the crash, she soon realised that it hadn't come from anywhere in her room, but from another part of the house.

The moonlight light the room as she glanced at the clock witch sat on her bedside cabinet and read, "3 O'clock …" she groaned.

She wondered where the noise had came from, at this late hour none of the servants would be up and about, and the children had to be tucked up safely in their beds, Wade and Ella would never dare venture outside the nursery after bedtime, they were too afraid of the reprimands they would receive if ever they were caught. As for Bonnie, well she was so terrified of the dark that she would have begged and screamed for her mother rather than get out of the security of her bed.

Who could it possibly be?

She prayed to God that it wasn't a thief –or worse. She gathered up all her strength and decided to go and investigate, she wasn't going to crumble into pieces and hide under her covers, she had survived the Yankees during the war, she had even killed one of them, she wasn't about to let a little noise have the best of her.

She threw the covers back and swiftly swung herself out of bed, put her slippers on, picked up her wrapper from the floor and put it around her shoulders.

She slowly crept out of the room and quickly glided along the corridor, she stopped when she got to the top of the stairs. She peered down from this prime observation spot.

Even in the weak light of the candle burning downstairs, Scarlett recognised Rhett's tall figure bending over what appeared to be a pile of glass, or rather as she would later find out, pile of crystal –the remains of her favourite vase.

She heard him curse as he tried to pick up the pieces; from where she was standing she could tell he was drunk. This was the worse she had ever seen him, he must have really indulged himself, she thought, because Rhett was the kind of man who knew how to hold his drink, and tonight he was barely able to hold himself up.

The only other person she had seen in a similar state was her own Father, when he had been a bit too generous in pouring his whiskey.

Rhett cursed again and mumbled something she didn't quite understand from where she was standing. She deeply regretted Pork's absence, he knew how to deal with men in such a condition, she sighed, he had taken care of Paw so many times.

But never in a month of Sundays would she have imagined having to deal with such a situation. Why, she hadn't even expected Rhett to even come home tonight. She had thought he would more than likely spend the night elsewhere, like nearly every other night since he had returned home, with that vile and disgusting Watling woman.

She slowly and carefully made her way down the long staircase, he hadn't even realised she was there yet. As she got closer and closer to her husband, she tried to think of something good to say. It wasn't every day she had the upper hand with Rhett Butler, so this was an opportunity she had no intention on wasting.

Sure she could always find the strength inside her to be nice to him, like a wife should be to her husband, it's not as if he was in any state to actually remember her behaviour in the morning anyway, but what good would that do to her? None, and she Scarlett O'Hara wasn't a normal wife, she did nothing without expecting something in return.

She came to a halt when she arrived on the bottom step and stood there, that way, in addition to her sober state, she also had the advantage of height, so she could look him in the eye without having to look up. She cleared her throat and said flatly "Got yourself into a right state, haven't you?"

He turned around as soon as he heard the sound of her voice, his clothes were creased and the top buttons of his shirt was undone, his usually tidy hair was messy, he cocked his head sideways, as if he couldn't believe his eyes, and stumbled awkwardly towards her.

"Why, Mrs Butler! How kind, ladylike and so out of character of you to have stayed up all night and waited for your dear husband to return home after a night of fun out on the town," he slurred.

"Don't flatter yourself, Rhett," she said bluntly. "I heard a noise and I thought it would be wise to see where it had come from. You broke my vase."

"How so very brave of you, my pet, aren't you full of surprises? Weren't you afraid? It could have been a thief –or worse."

"Well somebody has to look out for the family's safety. It's not like I have a husband home every night to count on for that," she replied, then she noticed a trail of blood on the carpet and added "You're hurt."

He shrugged and turned his hand over, revealing a wound on the palm of his right hand, "I must have cut myself when I was picking up the pieces of your hideously ugly vase, my dear. You certainly have the poorest taste in the entire South," he muttered. "I'll take care of it tomorrow, I'm going to bed," he said as he pushed past her and started going upstairs.

At that moment, she suddenly realised that she didn't really despise him. In his current state of intoxication, he wasn't the unbearable conceited cad, she had to deal with every day, and tonight he was just a man. This was the most vulnerable she had ever seen him. She didn't love him that she was sure of, but she didn't hate him either, well at least not tonight.

She grabbed his left hand and said firmly, "No, not tomorrow, if you honestly think that I'm going to let you bleed all over my house, Rhett Butler, you are not only completely drunk, you have also lost your mind. Come with me."

He was in no shape to argue with her and Scarlett had no problem making him comply with her order. She did have trouble, on the other hand, getting him into the drawing room, he appeared to be drifting in and out of consciousness, and her petite frame had a hard time supporting his and her weight as he heavily draped his arm around her shoulders for support.

They eventually arrived at their destination and Scarlett sat Rhett down on the settee and granted herself a couple of minutes to catch her breath.

"What now, my pet?" Rhett asked.

"I'm going to bandage your hand, then …"

"My, my," he interrupted. "I wasn't aware of the fact that you possessed any selfless skills."

"Rhett, you know fine well that I was a nurse during the war," she answered back coolly, determined not to take the bait Rhett was so obviously laying out for her.

"And a right fine nurse you were, my dear," he sniggered.

She chose to ignore his snide comment and started to rummage through the cabinets for cloths or something that she could use as a bandage, she found what she was looking for and brought out a bottle of brandy in addition to the bundle of material.

"That's right Scarlett. Treat yourself to a nice quick little drink, you're looking awfully pale," he said.

"First of all, I'm absolutely not craving a drink, and secondly, it's not for me," she replied with all the calm she could muster.

"Well thank you, but no thank you," he laughed. "I think I've had my fair share of alcohol for the evening."

"You don't say … It's not for you either," she said as she poured some of the liquor on one of the cloths and dabbed Rhett's wound with it.

When he winced in pain, Scarlett couldn't stop herself from snorting, "Surely the great Rhett Butler, the grand blockader, the valiant soldier can deal with a little pain." And certain he wouldn't remember a thing in the morning, she added, "A real picnic compared to the torture that is childbirth."

He just sat there, observing her with his big black eyes.

And just as quickly as she had tied the knot to the bandage around his hand, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down onto his lap. He held her there tightly for a moment and they looked into each other's eyes, the seconds that seemed to last for hours

Then as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he kissed her.

Not one of those innocent kisses that they had shared in the past years to keep the gossip down, or one like those they had shared at the beginning of their marriage, but one that resembled those they had exchanged that fateful night, during which they had conceived the child she was carrying.

For a moment she was lost in pure passion, it was primal and forceful, it was as if she couldn't pull away, even if she had wanted to, the kiss had awakened in her feeling that she thought would had died forever.

She remembered the last time they had spent the night together, the pure pleasure and ecstasy he had been able to rise in her. Then she remembered the days of worry that had followed that night. Was pleasure worth the price, she wondered.

He had made her suffer with the waiting, the humiliation, then his retreat to Charleston, taking Bonnie with him, far away from her. He had used her like he would a common whore.

She suddenly felt used and disgusting, she broke the kiss.

"Having a little bit of déjà-vu, my dear?" he asked.

It was at that moment she knew pleasure wasn't worth the suffering. She pushed him away with all her strength and stood up, she looked at him one last time before turning on her heels and fleeing the room, not slowing down until she found herself safely back between the sheets of her bed.

Back in the drawing room, Rhett took a swig of the brandy bottle that Scarlett had left opened on the side table. He looked down at his bandaged hand, unable to process what had just happened.


	7. The End

He pulled out his pocket watch to read the time, it was well after ten o'clock at night, and he had long ago sent word to Melanie to not worry that he'd be working late, and that he'd be home as soon as he finished his paper work.

It had been a long time since he had been out alone at such a late hour, even as a young man he had never been one to stay out late at night, he had always preferred an evening with a fascinating book. He was one of those men who thought it would be necessary to live ten lives to be able to learn the infinity of knowledge the world had to offer.

Ashley Wilkes had the reputation of being and was a good man, born and brought up to be a model for his peers, somebody to look up to and aspire to be like. He was the golden boy of his generation, a good looking man and a more than successful scholar, an aura of perfection, calm and serenity seemed to follow him wherever he went.

If there had been no war, he would have been more than satisfied to live his whole life at Twelve Oaks, the plantation he grew up on, and that he would eventually inherit, leading a happy life with his wife, Melanie, and his children.

But the war had came and gone, destroying everything he had known and loved on its way, leaving only behind it defeat, sorrow and misery.

It's not as if he wasn't a happy man, he was well of the fact that he was much better off than many of his friends, he had a devoted wife, a son, a roof over his head and food on the table, but he knew that he wasn't as happy as he would have been if there hadn't been a war.

To be absolutely honest, Ashley was riddled with a never ending feeling of guilt and going about every day with such a burden wasn't an easy task.

He had participated in the war only half-heartedly, had joined the army back in 1861 because it was the only thing to do, he couldn't possibly refuse to bear the colours of the South like all the other men, but deep down he had always known that he was fighting a lost cause.

Not a day went by during which he hadn't wondered what he and all these good men were doing, fools trying to beat the Yankees. They were so sure of their imminent victory, they thought themselves invincible, and just like Icarus had done in Greek mythology, they had flown too close to the sun, burned their wings and perished.

He had always kept these thoughts bottled up inside his mind, only releasing bribes of it, in his letters to Melanie, when he couldn't handle the pressure anymore.

He felt weak and cowardly for never voicing his opinions, as if he could have single handily prevented the war from happening, but he wasn't one of those men, he didn't have the courage necessary to crush other men's dreams with the blunt truth even if it was the only sensible thing to do.

Ashley Wilkes was not a Rhett Butler, nor did he aspire to be.

Nevertheless he couldn't stop himself from feeling guilty, he couldn't understand why he, who had not believed in the Cause for one second, had survived battles, hunger, imprisonment and had been able to come home to his loved ones, while so many other, who had fought for it body and mind had perished, and now lay cold and lost in unfamiliar soil, far away from everything they had known during happier times.

He sighed heavily as he concentrated once again on the accounts in front of him, as brilliant a student as he had been, he had to admit that figures had always been his weakness; they felt so abstract to him, unlike letters and books which he was always able to connect with instantly.

But he had to get these numbers right, he didn't want to get them all wrong and give Scarlett a reason to come down to the mills and do them herself.

He fortunately hadn't seen much of Scarlett lately, which was just fine by him, especially in her current state. Melanie had told him about the future Butler baby, he had had to fight back a cough of surprise; he had thought that Scarlett had ceased sharing a bed with Rhett Butler, but apparently town gossip wasn't always accurate. Nothing stopped the town's tongue from waggling, so he prayed every night that the child would be born with dark hair like its parent's and not as blond as Careen O'Hara had been as a baby.

Ever since the incident that had happened on his birthday, he had felt uncomfortable in Scarlett's company. That being said, he had never felt entirely at ease in her presence, she had the uncanny ability of intimidating every man who entered in contact with her, no matter what she said or what she was wearing, she always had the upper hand when interacting with men.

He remembered that even as a child, Scarlett had always wanted to be the best at what she did, she thrived on competition, and no prize was sweeter for her than beating the boys at their own games. Maybe that was the secret to her power over the other gender, she was living proof of the fact that women can do what men do and be just as good at it, if not better, the men knew this and so did she.

"Good old Scarlett," he chuckled softly. Nothing would ever change her, he thought, nothing can beat her, she has been through hell and worse during the war and came out of it stronger than ever.

Unfortunately for him, Scarlett was not just a childhood friend he could admire and narrate funny stories about during parties; she was also responsible for a part of the guilt that Ashley Wilkes went around life with, like a prisoner his bolder.

The facts were simple, he wanted her. The truth was blunt, he couldn't have her.

She was like the forbidden apple in the garden of Eden, he had wanted her ever since he had became aware of her existence, that day he had visited Tara when he returned from his grand tour of Europe. She was no longer the silly child he could tease, she had become a woman, and what a woman!

She was perfect, not tall, but not short either, small hand and feet, a dainty figure and a minuscule waist, immaculate ivory skin and thick dark hair, and those bewitching green eyes, she was the belle of Clayton County.

It had been a pleasant surprise to discover that he had a special place in her heart, that out of the endless line of young men that would be more than willing prostrate themselves at her feet and beg for her to marry them, she had picked him, she had chosen to love him.

He knew she had wanted him to marry her, that she had dreamed of it very often, she had told him so at that last Barbeque at Twelve Oaks, and she had wanted them to run away together after the war, but even if he had wanted to, there was Melanie, the girl he had been promised to for as long as he could remember.

Scarlett and Melanie were as different as night and day, one was wild, unpredictable and determined to get what she wanted, no matter the costs; the other was shy, calm and thoughtful of others. He could never have been happy with a girl like Scarlett, they were too different, he belonged with Melanie.

He loved his wife; his love for her was true, pure and deep, it was very different from the feelings he harboured for Scarlett. It wasn't love he felt for Scarlett, he was sure of that.

Yet he still wanted her, when he heard her voice, caught a glimpse of her on the street, or when she turned up in this very office, he desperately longed for her. What would he do for a single night with her, as long as it would remain a secret … He couldn't even finish that thought, it was wrong and sinful, he was happily married and she, well she was married, even if it was to that awful Rhett Butler.

Her absence in his life recently had certainly made things easier, he could go around Atlanta pretending she didn't really exist, that she was just a figment of his imagination. It was cowardly but it certainly made everything more bearable.

Ashley didn't really have anything to worry about; his reputation was practically intact; hardly anyone had looked down on him after what happened. Unsurprisingly everyone just assumed that all the wrong was Scarlett's doing, that she had thrown herself at him and had taken advantage of his kindness.

Things would never change amongst the Southerner's of Atlanta, it had been so easy for everybody to blame Scarlett, she had always been their scapegoat, and they had never really liked her. Ashley was certain that the possibility that he was even a tad responsible for what had occurred that fateful afternoon at the mills, had not once crossed their minds.

He had been the one to make her cry in the first place, and he had been the one to take her in his arms and try and comfort her, he hated being the instigator of another human's sorrow, he dreaded being the cause of another person's tears, so he hadn't thought twice about what he was doing.

He cleared his throat and returned his concentration once again to his work.

Outside the mills a dark presence lingered in the shadows, waiting to make his move. The man had tied his horse a couple of feet away in a sombre alley. He hoped nobody had seen him.

He had just been passing by on his way somewhere else when he had noticed Mr Ashley Wilkes' horse tied up outside, he had been surprised that the man would still be out and at work at such a late hour.

He had always loathed Ashley Wilkes, from the first moment he had laid his eyes on him all those years ago; he had known that they would never be friends.

Ashley was a stupid dreamer, the perfect incarnation of the stereotype of a Southern gentleman, who preferred to relive the memories of his past rather than face the cruel reality.

Ashley was responsible for so much of his misery, and the resentment and hatred he carried against the man knew no boundaries.

He'd never have thought he'd be so lucky to find the 'honourable' gentleman on his own at such a late hour, and he was going to take advantage of the moment fate was offering him on a platter.

The light from the office went dim; he knew it was now or never.

Back inside, Ashley was putting his freshly finished paperwork into his pocket, he was satisfied with what he had done, he would hand it over to Melanie, who would then give it to Scarlett, so she could take a look at how business was going.

He put his coat on, impatient to get back home to his wife, he didn't like being away from her too long.

He grinned as he remembered all his entrancing conversations about books and things like that with her, she made him happy.

He was too distracted by his trip down memory lane to notice the soft sound of the door clicking open, and the muffled footsteps behind him.

It was only when he felt the impact of the heavy rock against the back of his skull that Ashley Wilkes knew that everything wasn't alright anymore.

As he lay there sprawled unable to move on the dusty floor of his office with a large pool of blood forming around his head, he wondered if this was payback for everything he had done wrong in the course of the three decades he had spent in this world.

He thought of Melanie, sweet, tender and caring Melanie, he hoped she would be strong and safe, and of his little Beau, he felt bitter at the perspective that he wouldn't have the privilege of seeing his only son become a man.

The murderer remained in a darkened corner, watching his victim agonising in silence, hiccoughing with every breath, unable to call for help –and even if he had been, there was nobody to come and save him.

A sinister quietude reigned over Atlanta as Ashley Wilkes closed his eyes one last time and drifted into an eternal rest.

To be continued …

* * *

**Author's Note:** Contrary to the title of this chapter; this isn't the end of this story, it's merely the beginning.

To be honest, when I started this I had no idea it would involve a murder, back then I didn't even know that it was going to be more than a one shot.

I was asked to make this original, to not follow the same path many Gone with the Wind stories have already taken, so a couple of weeks ago, I decided to go with murder. A couple of characters made the short list, but at the end of the day Ashley Wilkes was the (un)lucky winner.

Many thanks to all my reviewers, without you lot, I would have dropped this ages ago (like all my other fics).


	8. The Talk of the Town

**Author's Note:** I know 'long time no see'. I feel like the worst updater in the history of Fan Fiction.

I know that my brain and inspiration picked a bad time to take a holiday considering that the title from the last chapter was "The End" and some of you thought it was the end of the story, I am sorry for that.

Those who are more aware of my progress as I write will be surprised by this chapter, since it's very very different from the original chapter 8. This one is more of a transitional chapter setting up chapters to come. You've been warned, don't be too disappointed.

Also, for your information chapter 4, 5, 6 and 7 all take place on the same day/night.

As always, many thanks to everyone who took a moment of their time to write a review, it's always heart warming to see that somebody cared enough to comment, and without you lot, I would be nothing.

Hopefully it won't be half as long until the next update.

* * *

The news spread in the city of Atlanta like the plague. Good news travels fast, but bad news travels even faster, and Ashley Wilkes' murder was no exception to the old adage.

The reality that people felt great pleasure in discussing the misfortunes of others is as old as time, it seemed to make their own existence appear less miserable.

Naturally, not everyone had heard about the murder from the same sources, after all each person had their favourite way of finding out about other people's business.

Some people found out in the most respectable way there is: by reading the newspaper.

This was the case of Louis Oliver Ramsay, who had read about Ashley Wilkes' demise in the Atlanta Constitution while he was drinking his morning coffee.

Louis Oliver Ramsay –or another one of those damn Yankees, as the locals called him down here, had moved to Atlanta as soon as the war had ended, he had felt it was the perfect opportunity for a fresh start. He had sold the small cobbler's business his father had trained him into and had handed him down and the small house he had inherited after the old man's death, he got a decent enough amount of money for both, and had bought two train tickets to the South, one for him, one for his wife Mary, they had left the North full of hope of leading a better life once they arrived at their final destination.

So far almost everything had worked out as he had planned, immediately after their arrival in town; he had purchased a small shop with and upstairs living area at a record price, the little shop had since then grown into a more imposing store.

Business was good; his only rival was Kennedy's General Store.

"Man found beaten to death," he read the headline out loud to Mary who was busy frying some bacon for their breakfast. "Ashley Wilkes, co-owner of the Wilkes & Kennedy lumber mills was found murdered in his office."

Mary turned around to face him and motioned him to keep reading.

"He was beaten to death," he paused to clear his throat and take a sip of coffee. "With a rock. Can you believe that Polly?"

"I know," she said as she flipped the bacon over in the pan. "It's absolutely dreadful. That's cold blooded murder. I feel sorry for his wife; she's a good person, one of the few Southerners that has never been downright rude to me. Say Ollie, didn't you buy all that lumber for the store's extension from Ashley Wilkes?"

"Yes, Polly, I did," he replied, before adding under his breath, "Yes I certainly did."

He folded the newspaper in four and set it down on the corner of the table.

"Hurry up with the bacon, Polly. I'm starving and I should have opened the store already."

**/\/\/\/\/\/\**

Others had a more entertaining way of keeping up to date with the latest news in town: through the grapevine.

Gossip was a highly developed means of communication amongst the citizen of Atlanta, it was common knowledge that chitchatting about things that were none of their business over a cup of tea was the ladies' favourite pastime, but it was also a known fact that the men also indulged in it more often than they would care to admit, more than one secret had been revealed by a man being a little too honest after having a drink too many.

The exact details of the story would vary from one narration to the next; each one more gruesome than the previous, but pretty soon Ashley's murder was all anyone could talk about, it had even put an end to the endless talk that had been going on lately about Scarlett Butler's growing pregnant belly, and Scarlett had been the prime topic of idle gossip for all the old guard ever since the day she had stolen Frank Kennedy's affections from her own sister and married him.

A few days after Ashley's murder, Mrs Elsing hosted the weekly sewing circle, "I still can't believe that someone killed Ashley Wilkes," were the words she chose to broach the subject.

"I know," had almost instantly intervened Mrs Merriwether. "He was such a good man, a war hero."

"I feel so bad for poor Melanie; nobody deserves to lose a husband and certainly not poor Melly," added Mrs Whiting. "And poor India, she only has a sister left in Macon and they haven't really been on speaking terms ever since Honey got married."

"Yes, it's such a shame," said Dolly Merriwether. "Was it the doctor who was called to the mills, Mrs Meade?"

"No," Mrs Meade answered, shaking her head from left to right with so much vigour it looked like it was about to fall off. "Thank heavens no; I don't think he would have been able to stand seeing poor Ashley in such a state, they sent for Dr Morrison."

"Is that the Yankee doctor?" asked Mrs Elsing.

"Yes, the bald one with the thick ridiculous looking black moustache," confirmed Mrs Meade. "He's a nice enough man, for a Yankee."

"I heard he was beaten to death," Mrs Merriwether said almost in a whisper.

"I overheard the Doctor talking to Dr Morrison, yes, the killer," she cringed slightly as she said this. "The killer used a rock to murder poor Ashley."

The ladies continued their discussion unaware of a presence hovering in the hall on the other side of the door: Fanny Elsing Wellburn hadn't missed a single word of the conversation. Her eyes were as big as saucers for she had only been told Melanie's husband had been killed, she had not been privy to all the details.

Later that day she called on Maybelle Merriwether Picard, the tea had barely been poured into the teacups when Fanny burst out, "Did you know that Ashley Wilkes was stoned to death?"

Maybelle stared at her friend for a moment a little startled by her friend's words and drank her tea in one gulp.

"The murderer picked up a rock and hit him endlessly until he fell onto the ground, dead and bloody," Fanny continued a little too enthusiastically considering the subject.

The girl had always felt a bit left out by life, she hadn't been the best at the Ladies' Academy, she was never the prettiest girl at a ball, even as a little girl she had always been under the impression that she was constantly in someone else's shadow.

And ever since her husband Tommy had died, she had occupied her lonely days by indulging in gossip; it had kept her mind busy and fuelled her hatred for Scarlett Butler, whom she considered responsible for her husband's death, since most of the gossip was about her.

But over the years she had acquired a certain talent, she seemed to find out everything about everyone, and repeated what she had heard to whoever agreed to listen to her, and while it was certainly not the most flattering gift known to a lady, she had finally found something she was the best at.

"That is just absolutely dreadful," Maybelle said serving herself a second cup of tea. "I feel so sorry for poor Melly."

"Yes, such a primal and hateful crime," Fanny agreed.

That night long after Fanny had left the Picard's house, Maybelle sat on the settee knitting while her husband René was standing buy the window drinking his usual after dinner digestive.

"Do you know what Fanny told me today?" she said as she started another row.

"No, what did she say?" he asked in his thick Creole accent.

"She said that Ashley Wilkes had been bludgeoned to death," she answered.

"Bludgeoned?" he questioned.

"Yes, it's like been hit with a rock, only much worse," she replied. "Poor Melanie, I hope they don't have an open casket wake, apparently his head is all bashed in and distorted. And as much as I care for Melly –we grew up together; I don't think I could pay my respects if that was the case."

René Picard remained silent, letting his wife pursue her ramblings about how hard life has been on Mrs Wilkes, but how she couldn't bear to see a man's deformed face, he stared out the window into the dark night.

The following evening René was out with some of his friends, all married men, at his favourite bistro-like place, which reminded him of his home town so well.

After one drink to many, his friends finally convinced him he should go home to his wife while he was still able to walk, but not before he ordered a final round.

He lifted up his small glass and said loud enough for the whole place to hear him, "Let's drink to Ashley Wilkes, in memory of him, to his kind heart and his wise words, and because no gentleman deserves to be bludgeoned and beaten to death in such a beastly fashion! May he rest in peace!"

**/\/\/****\/\/\/\**

However out of all the ways that people had found out about Ashley Wilkes' death, Felix Kaufman's was the most original.

Felix Alexander Kaufman was the only son and only child of Heinrich Friedrich "Fritz" Kaufman and Brigitte Erma "Britta" Kaufman; they had been leaders in Frankfurt of the revolutionary ideas that had been proliferating through Europe, inspired by the French and the American Revolutions.

They had been forced to flee their native land in 1849, after King Frederick William IV had refused the Parliament's offer of a constitutional monarchy, and had sent out warrants for the arrests of people who had been it favour of a Revolution.

They had left behind every thing they had ever known and loved, taking with them their 5 year old son Felix and all the valuable items they could fit into their rather small travelling bag. they had travelled by train to La Rochelle on the west coast of France, they would have settled there if they hadn't been afraid by the political instability of the country, which was just recovering from it's second revolution in half a century, so they had embarked on the first ship that crossed the Atlantic, they ended up in Savannah.

They had finally arrived in the promised land of freedom and liberty of speech. They would have been overjoyed if they hadn't realised the difficulties that lied ahead. They were in a foreign country, where they had no money, and didn't speak the language.

They were going to have to start from scratch, in this land they would not be able to live by the same standards as they had back home.

Over the years they had managed to build themselves a pretty decent life, after they had sold everything that they could sell out of their travel bag, they had wound up in Atlanta. At first Fritz had worked as a lamplighter, but as soon as he had saved up enough money he had bought a horse and coach and set up business as a hack man. As for Britta, she quickly gained a good reputation as a seamstress and had never gone a day without work, even during the war.

Despite having lived most of his life in America, Felix still spoke English with an audible German accent; this was the result of having received most of his education from his parents. He was a tall man built like a woodcutter, he had always evoked dreams of having his own little farm, but he had surprised everyone who knew him, when after the war, he had decided to stay in his father's line of work, driving people around all day.

Early one morning, Felix was walking into town, he had to go and get his horse at the blacksmith's, one of the poor animal's shoes had fallen off the previous evening and the blacksmith, who was a friend of his, had promised to put new shoes on the beast over night.

As he walked the sunny path that lead from the little house where he lived with his mother to Atlanta itself, he hummed the tune to _Jeden Morgen geht die Sonne__ auf_, the song his parents had always sung when the weather was nice.

He was walking past the mills gaily, with a spring in his step, when he noticed something unusual: the door to the Wilkes and Kennedy mills had been left open. If he hadn't been a hopelessly honest man, brought up in good protestant faith, he first thought would have been to sneak inside and see if there was anything worth stealing, instead he approached the building with every intention of just closing the door over to not tempt a lesser individual.

As he was about to pull the door shut, the sun poured in through the window and its light reflected on something that caught his eye, his curiosity got the best of him and he entered the mills.

What he saw would haunt him for the rest of his lifetime, the sun had reflected on a pool of blood that went from the main office right into the entrance. It was in the office he found the man, a blond man with a very large wound on the back of his head, he immediately ran out of the place, and went to the nearest doctor's house.

He had pounded on the door and muttered something incomprehensible to the young woman who answered the door, he asked for the doctor, but the man wasn't even dressed yet. Felix begged him to hurry, it was a matter of life and death: there was a man, a badly injured man at the mills.

The doctor hastily threw some clothes on and allowed Felix to drag him to the mills, the minute the doctor entered the office and took his first glance at Ashley, he knew; there was no doubt this man was dead, nobody could survive this amount of blood loss, even Felix should have realised that before he had hurried him out of his bed at such a ghastly hour.

This man had been murdered, and there was nothing he could, as a doctor, do about it.

TBC …


	9. An Awakening

**A/N:** So much for my promise of a "fast" update, right?

Although by now, you should know better than to believe anything I say about updates.

Thank you to everyone who has taken time to review this story, I try to answer to them all, but sometimes I say to myself, "I'll answer it later", and then I completely forget about them.

So here's the next chapter, hope you like it and that it was worth the wait. If you don't remember what happened in chapter 6, there's a bit that won't make sense to you.

I am not going to make any promises concerning the next update, because I go back to University on Monday, and work comes before play.

So the next chapter will come when it does, hopefully not too long though.

And before I leave, I'm planning on organising a drabble-a-thon at my GwtW-LJ community, so if you are interested … (the link is on my profile).

* * *

Wakes are always sad affairs, but Ashley Wilkes' was one of saddest Atlanta had witnessed in years.

The little house on Ivy Street was so filled with people that the atmosphere quickly became stuffy and unbearable, it was as if everyone who had ever laid eyes on him had shown up to pay their respects.

They all had come to say farewell to a dear old friend, someone who had meant something to them, weather it was through kinship, friendship, admiration or respect.

Most men saw Ashley Wilkes as the incarnation of the man they should aspire to be, the ladies thought of him as the ideal husband, and he appeared to parents as the perfect son in law.

Fellow soldiers he had been kind to during the war had turned up to express their condolences to Melanie Wilkes and to tell her how very brave and generous her husband had been, and that his death was a tragic loss to mankind.

Northerners settled in Atlanta since the end of the war came by to express their sympathy for Ashley and Melanie Wilkes, for they had never been outspokenly rude to them as so many other Southerners had been. They stood uncomfortably as the Old Guard marched in together at the same time like an army, Ashley Wilkes was one of their own, and they made damn sure everyone knew it.

Once they had scarred off the "Yankees", they stood in line and each of them, one after the other, offered, in a shaky voice and with tears in their eyes, kind words of consolation to Miss Melly for her great loss.

Honey Wilkes, who had travelled from Macon with her husband, was huddled, in a corner, next to her sister, India, tears streaming out of her eyes. India, who had been forced into adulthood early, after her mother's death, was putting on a brave face, trying to console her younger sister, but it was obvious to everyone that she had been crying and not just a little, her eyes were red and swollen and it looked as if she hadn't slept in days.

Lost in all this turmoil was little Beau Wilkes. He was not yet seven and understood without fully understanding the death of his father. He felt lost.

That's why he went to sit next to his cousin Wade. His mother had told him long ago that his uncle Charlie, Wade's father, had died during the war, so he knew Wade would have answers to his questions.

The older boy told the other that he didn't remember his own father since he died before he had been born, but that he still felt that something was missing in his life, sure he had Uncle Rhett, but Rhett Butler wasn't his father, and that made all the difference.

He told Beau that he remembered Uncle Frank's death a lot better. He told his cousin that he was right to be sad, but that men don't cry, especially not brave ones, he had read that in books, but since they were still children, they were allowed to cry sometimes, and then he put his arm around Beau Wilkes' shoulder while the little boy sobbed.

Many tears were shed that day in the little living room on Ivy Street, and those who weren't openly crying had at least watery eyes, well almost everyone.

Only two people seemed to have complete control over their emotions or to be immune to the tragedy of Ashley Wilkes' murder: Rhett and Scarlett Butler.

Rhett's lack of anguish concerning Ashley's death didn't really come as a surprise to the Old Guard. First of all, Captain Butler had never really seen eye to eye with the deceased, and secondly his wife had spent most of her life chasing the man.

But the absence of tears in Scarlett Butler's eyes did come as a bit of a shock to everyone, she had thrown herself at Ashley Wilkes for years, and the only reason she wasn't an outcast in the Atlanta society was because Melanie Wilkes had protected her, she could at least have the decency to have bloodshot eyes, thought every single old cat in the attendance.

That being said, if Scarlett had displayed too much emotion, if she had been double in two from the agony of Ashley's demise, the Old Guard would have been appalled, and would have been quick to conclude that she was grieving her lost lover.

Scarlett Butler could never do anything right in their eyes.

"You could at least pretend you're sorry he's dead," Scarlett hissed into Rhett's ear.

"You should be happy I didn't bring champagne with me to celebrate," he whispered back before adding, "… but out of respect for Mrs Wilkes."

"That's why I said pretend! People might think you did it!" she said just loud enough for him to hear it.

"Are you about to confess something, my pet? Is there any particular reason why I should have wanted to kill the 'honourable' Ashley Wilkes?"

She glared at him and then turned to move away, but he caught her arm and pulled her close to him, "Look at the pot calling the kettle black. I don't see you crying your eyes out as if the world had ended. I would have thought the loss of the love of your life would at least move you enough to bring tears to your eyes. Why, you were more upset about Frank's death! Perhaps your heart has for once and for all completely frozen over and turned into stone, and now you are unable of feeling any emotion whatsoever."

She was fully determined on not taking the bait he had just laid down in front of her, expecting her to jump down his throat. Instead she shrugged out of his grasp and sighed and turned away to the nearest window, she gazed outside; allowing her mind to drift back to the morning when she had found out Ashley was dead.

_She was hiding in her room, hiding from Rhett._

_Deep down part of her wanted him to come looking for her, and find her, part of her wanted him to confront her about the what had happened the night before, the kiss, the way she had returned the kiss at first._

_She could still remember the warmth of his hand through the fabric of her robe as his arms had snaked around her during their embrace. The mere memory of it sent a tingling sensation of longing down her spine and gave her Goosebumps._

_She shouldn't be having such thoughts, it wasn't proper, she didn't even love Rhett, she repeated in her head over and over again._

_She started pacing up and down the room, restlessly, unable to focus on anything else._

_He was such a mystery to her._

_One minute she felt as if he had no secrets for her, that she knew him perfectly and the next he would do something absolutely unpredictable such as kissing her._

_Every time she was absolutely sure that her husband despised her and couldn't even bare to lay his eyes on her, she would catch him off guard, gazing at her longingly with anything but hatred and disdain in his eyes._

_A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, she immediately stopped walking, she had recognised the knock, she knew it was him._

_She cleared her throat slightly and told him to come in._

_He moved swiftly across the floor, not acknowledging the events of the previous night, which didn't surprise Scarlett, but disturbed her all the same._

"_Scarlett," he began and she knew from his tone that he wasn't here to deliver good news, maybe he was going to try and divorce her again, claim the baby wasn't his, she wasn't deaf or stupid, she had overheard what the old cats were saying about her all around town. She was certainly not prepared for his next statement, "Ashley Wilkes is dead." _

"_Ashley? Dead? Do you honestly think I'm going to believe you? Is this some bizarre ploy that you came up with in your twisted mind to torment me? Make me confess something I didn't do? How many times will I have to repeat myself, nothing happened between Ashley and I at the mills," she babbled incredulously, not fully understanding her own mumblings. She didn't believe him. She couldn't believe him. Ashley couldn't be dead._

"_I can assure you my dear, I am not toying with your mind, Ashley Wilkes was murdered last night," he said flatly._

"_Murdered?" Scarlett could barely manage to whisper it. She felt her whole body go numb, questions darted in and out of her brain: why was he murdered? Where? By who? Who could possibly want to kill Ashley Wilkes?_

"_I came in here to tell you that Mrs Wilkes requested your presence by her side …" he added._

"_Yes, of course Melly," she interrupted him. "I'll be right down. Make sure the carriage is ready."_

_Once he had left the room, Scarlett mechanically put the strands of her hair that had fallen down back in place as she gathered her thoughts "Melly … I must go to Melly. I promised Ashley all those years ago that I would take care of her. I can't fail my word."_

_It was only when she came face to face with Melanie that Scarlett fully realised the tragedy of the events that had just occurred._

_Melanie was as white as a sheet, her eyes were empty and tearless as she clutched an inconsolable little Beau close to her. On Scarlett's signal, Dilcey carefully picked the child out of his mother's arms, and carried him into another room, a hiccoughing Aunt Pitty-Pat at her heels._

_Melanie slowly rose from her seat._

_She looked dreadful, perhaps even worse than the night they had fled Atlanta after she had given birth to her son, but Scarlett supposed that the impression was due to the fact that Melly had barely been conscious that night, whereas now she was standing in front of her, physically and emotionally drained by the death of her husband._

_She warily walked the short distance that separated her from Scarlett and stood in front of her totally helpless. _

_All Scarlett could do was stare back into her brown eyes, which had nearly turned black from the tears she was holding back._

_Scarlett felt lost, out of control. She was witnessing a woman's realisation that her life would never be the same again, that she would never see the person she had loved the most in the world ever again, the loss of a soul mate, a pain so sharp that it would never entirely disappear, a wound so deep that it would never completely heal, the same grief that had plagued her father and deprived him of his sanity after her mother's death. _

_But what paralysed her thoughts and ability to move was this question: why didn't she feel the same pain as Melanie?_

_Ashley was the love of her life, or so she had claimed for almost half her life, she loved him unconditionally, didn't she?_

_Shouldn't she feel that her life had lost all meaning? Shouldn't she be so oppressed by sadness that she should have trouble breathing?_

_Yes, she was sad. She wasn't as heartless and cold as Rhett and the Old Guard made her out to be, but she wasn't devastated either._

_Ashley's death was tragic, and she was shaken by the loss of a dear friend, a person she had know all her life, someone who remembered the times when she was young, carefree and happy, somebody who remembered her before the war, who had known and appreciated her parents, a link to her past. _

_His death felt like the final words to a chapter of her life, she was sad, but a new page had been turned and words were already being written on it, the world, at least hers, wasn't over._

_Then all of a sudden everything seemed clear. She did not love Ashley Wilkes, at least not the way Melanie loved him._

_This new found knowledge made her feel empty._

_If she didn't love Ashley, then her life and her actions didn't make sense anymore. A lump of anger and bitterness over her own foolishness formed in the pit of her stomach, she felt foolish. How much time had she lost daydreaming about something that didn't even really exist?_

_She couldn't think about it now, if she did she would go crazy, she would think about it later, tomorrow maybe, right now she had better things to do. Melanie was still standing in front of her, looking like she was ready for death to come and take her away too._

_Scarlett wasn't having any of that. She couldn't afford to lose Melanie, not now; Melly was the only person who had ever been truly and entirely good and kind to her, no matter what she did. Melanie had never judged her like all the others, she had loved Scarlett just the way she was, her flaws and all._

_It was as if all the pieces of a giant jigsaw were assembling in Scarlett's mind, she was finally realising the true value of Melanie, her friend, the woman she had shared so much and been through so much with, marriage, mourning, a war, childbirth, poverty, and death, why the woman had even been her accomplice in the murder of that Yankee all those years ago._

_Scarlett could see that Melanie was trying her best to be strong, but in a dashingly uncharacteristic moment of empathy, Scarlett seized Melanie by the shoulders and said to her, "You can cry, Melly. It's only me here; you don't have to be strong."_

"_Oh, Scarlett, I don't know what I do without you, it's so horrible, you can't even imagine," she gasped. "How insensitive of me, of course you know how I feel; you went through it with Charlie and poor Frank." _

"_Don't be so silly, Melly. In times like these, you are allowed to think about yourself and only yourself. I'll take care of everything else._

"_You are so good to me, Scarlett," was all the poor woman could manage before she collapsed inconsolably into Scarlett's arms._

_She wept until she had no more tears left in her body, then she slowly sipped a cup of tea, not caring that the liquid had gone cold long ago._

_She would go silent for a while, and just when Scarlett thought the worse was behind them, Melanie would start weeping again and the cycle would start over._

_Scarlett stayed until after nightfall, when Rhett sent a carriage for her to come home. She made sure Melanie was in bed before she left and promised to come back first thing in the morning._

_When she finally walked through the front door of her home that night, she felt exhausted. The day finally took its toll on her, she couldn't remember the last time she had felt so physically and emotionally shattered. _

_She leaned heavily against the door she had just closed behind her. She sighed. Today she had lost a friend, a childhood companion, a part of her past, but she had also realised the importance of another person in her life, Melanie Hamilton Wilkes, her friend._

"_Miss Scarlett, I'm having Cookie warm up your supper this very instant, it'll be ready anytime soon," Mammy familiar voice broke the obscure silence of the hall._

"_Thank you Mammy," she said, resting her hand on the old woman's shoulder. "I have to see the children first, I must tell them about Ashley."_

_She slowly climbed up the stairs under the proud eyes of Mammy, who felt like her lamb was finally growing up, and the curious gaze of Rhett who had been lingering in the shadows of a dark corner._

TBC …


	10. Nothing but the truth

**A/N:** I actually had to read my own fan fiction to make sure I didn't make any massive continuity mistakes.

Honestly I hate myself for "disappearing" for over five months, I hate it when other people do that, but in order to make life bearable you have to lay down priorities, and it turns out that as much as I would like it to be, fan fiction isn't one of them.  
I've been working on this one for a while, and I finally decided to get my act together and caved into Alica's threats, even though I usually live by the principle: "Never give in to blackmail".

And also thank you to everyone who reviewed, this story reached and went over 100 reviews during my 'hiatus', thanks so much, they mean the world to me, you are [_in the words of the great diva Tina Turner_] simply the best (_doo. doo. doo. doo_) better than all the rest.

And to those who feel sorry for Melanie, well technically speaking, killing Ashley off saved her life, so …

Anyway, I think you all deserve a recap of what has happened so far, especially if you don't want to read the whole thing again, so …

Previously on Last Thoughts:

**1.** Scarlett didn't fall down the stairs

**2.** Ashley was savagely murdered

**3.** Scarlett has found out she didn't love Ashley

**4.** Scarlett has decided to help Melanie through her mourning

Who can spot the "Bridget Jones' Diary" reference? Anyway … enjoy?

* * *

He delicately brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, allowing his finger to softly linger on her skin for a little longer than it was necessary.

She was fast asleep.

She had been gone all day, just like every other day for the past week, spending practically every waken moment at Melanie Wilkes and as soon as she walked through the front door at night, long past dinner time, she headed straight to the study to look over the books for both the mills and the store.

She didn't even take the time to eat. Rhett was worried about her, she was strong, but no one can go on like that forever. He was afraid that if she didn't take better care of herself she would put her life and the baby's, his baby, in danger. He would have gladly offered to take the burden of keeping an eye on her businesses for her, but the truth was, he was puzzled and confused by this new Scarlett, who, almost overnight, had went from being a stubborn spoilt child to being a woman who spent her days comforting a woman, that not so long ago, she claimed she couldn't stand.

It was starting to get late, and she was still locked up in that room with her accounts, curious about what she could possibly be up to at such a late hour, he crept downstairs and discretely pushed open the door to the study.

She had fallen asleep, her head resting on her arms crossed over the thick book, her hair messed up and falling over her eyes.

The feeling of her skin against his finger sent shivers down his spine; almost unconsciously he traced her jaw line with his index finger.

"What on earth do you think you are doing," she demanded, her eyes were now wide open.

He quickly pulled his hand away, "I was just gently waking you up, my pet. I thought you would be more at ease sleeping in your own bed."

She stared at him with a look full of scepticism, fortunately for him; she was too exhausted to start arguing. "I have to finish checking the mills' accounts before I go to bed," she mumbled as she picked up her pen.

"Scarlett, leave them until the morning," he suggested.

"I can't, I have to be at Melly's in the morning," she simply stated.

"I will take care of them for you, if you like," he suggested.

"Rhett, you once said you never wanted to have anything to do with my business, why change your mind now?"

"I'm not trying to take them out of your hands …" he said. "You can't go on like this."

"What do you mean?" she asked, barely lifting her eyes from the long list of figures she was trying to read through.

"You spend all day at Mrs Wilkes', when you eventually get home after dark, you work to all hours of the night, you hardly eat, it's just not healthy."

"Why Mr Butler, are you worried about me?" she said slightly amused. "How gallant of you, but don't burden your thoughts with my wellbeing. I'm a strong woman; I've been through rougher times."

"But Scarlett, you are going to have a baby," he protested.

"I'm well aware of that, thank you. I'm neither the first woman to find herself in such a predicament, nor the last. I will be fine; when I was expecting Ella I used to travel to the mills every single day …"

"It's not the same," he insisted.

She lay her pen down and looked up at him, half confused, for what seemed like an eternity but was in fact only a couple of seconds, they remained in silence.

"Why are you doing it?" he continued.

"Why am I doing what?" she asked.

"Taking care of Mrs Wilkes …"

"Why wouldn't I?" she said as she stood up.

"You despise her. You can't stand her, she gets on your nerves, you mock everything she stands for," he replied.

"No, I certainly do not," she countered back.

"When exactly did this enlightenment occur?" he questioned.

"She has been nothing but good and kind to me," she said.

"You didn't answer my question," he insisted.

"I don't see why I should," she stated. "What business is it to you when or why I realised how important Melly was in my life as long as I did."

"It just does, answer the question," he asked again closing the space between them.

"The other day," she said evasively.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," she replied. He cast her a look which urged her to go on, "I was thinking back and all of a sudden it was clear to me that she had always been there for me. She is the only one that has always been there for me, and I'm sure will always be. My mother died. My father died. One of my sisters hates me. I have no true friends, but Melly, come heaven or high water, no matter what I did or didn't do, stood by me. She loves me for who I am, and she is the only person who ever has."

He looked at her incredulously for a moment, slightly taken aback by this rather spontaneous confession, partly saddened by her words and a little bit disappointed by the fact that she was unaware that he liked her, just the way she was, but then again, they were not exactly going through the most blissful times of their relationship. Nevertheless he couldn't resist the temptation of asking, "What about the golden Ashley Wilkes?"

"What about Ashley?" she asked.

"He's dead,' he said plainly.

"I'm well aware of that. I was at his funeral the other day, and since then I have been taking care of his widow," she stated flatly.

Rhett looked at her in disbelief, "Do you really have no heart at all? A moment ago, I thought you had finally changed and grown out of your spoilt childish egocentric ways, but you haven't, you are still the same ice queen, who marries men for their money and then parades around town flaunting her new found wealth in the faces of good people, all while openly chasing another woman's husband."

She looked at him as if he had just slapped her hard across the face, "You are nothing but a vile cad for attacking me for no reason …"

"No reason? No reason!" he sniggered sarcastically. "The man you have claimed to love for the past decade with undying passion is brutally murdered, and you're not even mourning, you're not even the least bit heartbroken, hell, I'm sure you're not even sad. If that isn't proof enough that you have no heart, I don't know what is."

She muttered something under her breath that Rhett didn't quite catch, "What was that my dear wife? Some excuse for and excuse to explain your heartless behaviour? Such as it wouldn't be proper for you to mourn another woman's man, more than you mourned your own combined? Since when have you given a damn about the commodities of society Scarlett?"

"Actually," she said uncharacteristically calm. "I am sad, I am heartbroken. Just not in the way you are suggesting I should be. I am not sad because I lost a love, I am sad because I lost a friend, one of the very last links to my childhood, to my parents."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't love Ashley, and I'm not sure I ever truly did," she let her voice trail off.

All at once various emotions and feelings merged inside him –surprise, hope, delirium, and joy, but instead of allowing Scarlett to read them off his face, he buried them in the depths of his soul and asked coldly, "When exactly did you realise this?"

She stepped back, and sighed, "Rhett, I am tired. Actually I am exhausted. I am in no mood for bickering with you over Ashley right now."

She attempted to push past him, "Let me go to bed Rhett."

He stopped her, and held her by her shoulders, he looked into her eyes, he could see the exhaustion, but he could also see that she wasn't lying to him.

"Scarlett," he said softly as he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, at that moment he wanted to protect her from the rest of the world, at that moment he was sure everything would be alright.

He loosened his grip and slightly pulled away; he put both hands on the side of her face and leaned down to kiss her.

"Mister' Rhett! Mister' Rhett!" Mammy's voice bellowed from the hallway.

"Not now mammy," he muttered.

"Mister' Rhett, Miss Scarlett is home from Miss Melly's," she said as she popped her head through the crack of the half open door.

He looked up at her drowsily, his empty whiskey tumbler in one hand, he had dozed off while waiting for Scarlett to come home.

"If only dreams came true," he sighed as he rose from his chair to go and greet his wife.

TBC …


	11. A perfect day for a revelation

_She could see it happening over and over again: the heavy rock, her hands, the dent in the back of his skull, getting deeper and deeper with every blow._

_All too soon he was sprawled on the ground, his body lay there, limp and lifeless. She looked at him with great pity as she let the heavy stone fall to the ground with a deaf thump._

_She looked at her hands, they were covered in blood, the slimy viscous red liquid was everywhere, all over the floor, splattered on the walls, staining her dress, smudged all over her face, dripping from her hair. How she had managed to get blood in her hair, she would never know._

_All of a sudden she realised she had done something wrong, something truly terrible. She slumped down against the wall, contemplating the fruit of her rage. She would have never thought herself capable of such a dreadful hateful act. He hadn't even screamed. He hadn't even had the time to realise who his __executioner__was. _

_She had to get out, get away from this place. She glanced over at the door, which had remained ajar like an invitation from God –or rather the devil, after what she had just done, luring her to safety. As the cool night air hit her face, she was overcome with panic; she had to get away as fast as it was humanely possible. She started running erratically, taking the longest strides her legs allowed her to._

_Her surroundings became blurry as she increased her speed, she had a hard time distinguishing the bushes from the trees she ran by, and everything looked the same, patches and smudges of different shades of dark brown under the moonlight. She was hardly paying attention to where she was going, and she did not notice the tree root sticking out of the ground until she had fallen head first flat on the ground._

_The shock of the impact between the hard earth and her body was the last straw, it was too much for her to handle. She started sobbing uncontrollably; tears were streaming down her cheeks washing away the blood stains from her face._

_But she couldn't stop, she had to go on, she had to go home and wash the evidence of her sin off of her body. Desperately trying to ignore the pain in her knee caused by her fall, she struggled to pick herself up for a moment, and in the process she lost one of her shoes._

_For a moment in the dim light of the moon, she felt lost, she didn't recognise where she was, her eyes darted around in search of reassurance, a sign telling her where to go next, when suddenly she was startled by a noise coming from a nearby bush._

_What if somebody has already found the body? What if they are already after me, she wondered. Her heart was now pounding fast and hard inside her chest._

_She started running frantically again, leaving her discarded shoe behind. She ran for what felt to her like eternity, in no particular direction, without being totally sure of where she was heading. _

_She was out of breath and exhausted, but she knew she couldn't stop, not now, not yet, she wasn't safe, they could still be right behind her. Paranoia had taken the control over her ability to reason._

_When she couldn't take it anymore, she stopped to lean against a tree trunk; it was at that precise moment that she heard them. The dogs, they were barking with their masters yelling behind them, they were following her trail, they were after her, she was sure of it. Why else would they be out here in the middle of the night?_

_She gathered up what was left of energy, willpower and fear inside her, and set off again, doing her best to increase her speed with each stride, but it was no use, it was impossible. She could hear them getting closer and closer with every minute that passed; it would not be long before she would practically be able to feel their breaths on her neck._

_The sensible thing to do would be just to give up, running was pointless, they were going to catch up with her sooner or later. After all, they were much faster than she was. But even so in her mind sooner was better than later, she couldn't stop she had to go on._

_Blood pounded through her ears as she dashed through the misty woods, she was beginning to panic and was no longer able to think clearly, they were getting so close, she could feel them closing in on her, they would be at arm's length any time soon._

She woke up.

Her nightdress was drenched in sweat and she was panting, desperately trying to catch her breath.

She had had that nightmare again, the same one as the night before, and the one before, and every single night since Ashley had died. Every night since she had killed Ashley.

The memory of the terrible thing she had done haunted her day in and day out, when she was not having nightmare about it, she was replaying the events over and over again in her mind. She couldn't get the vision of him crumpled into a pathetic miserable heap on the ground after she had stoned him to death out of her head.

A part of her still refused to believe that she had been capable of committing such a horrible thing, it made her shudder. Yet the truth was that she had done it, she had grabbed a stone and hit another human being with it until that person died, she had literally beat the living daylights out of a man.

With her own hands she had ended another individual's rights, and that reality would be with her for the rest of her life, until the day she died.

She wasn't sure it was a burden she was prepared to bear. The guilt had already started gnawing at her soul. Even though she was safe between the four walls of her home after what she had done that night, and she was actually sure that nobody suspected she was the murderer. Even so, she felt that she could no longer walk freely walk down the streets of Atlanta freely without making sure that she was not being followed.

What would people think if they ever found out what she had done? It would be awful; she did not want that to happen.

But what if she never got caught? She had killed a man. Surely she deserved some sort of punishment for her dreadful sin; she did not deserve to go about her life free, as if nothing had ever happened.

Not that she would ever be free, she would forever be bound by guilt, she had murdered someone. She disgusted herself, the more she thought about what she had done, the more nauseous she felt.

She was still sweating and still panting, she tossed her covers back got up and started pacing up and down her bedroom.

Her head was bursting, split in two by the slicing pain of a sharp migraine. The headaches had started with the nightmares.

She couldn't go on like this.

It was torture.

Perhaps this was her punishment after all.

She would rather be hung, she thought. At least then she might be able to get a bit of rest, some peace and quiet, she could make amends, beg for forgiveness, God forgives all those who are repentant.

At the moment, an eternity of peace in death was far more appealing that a lifetime full of guilt and remorse.

She did feel remorseful, she was dreadfully sorry about what she had done; she wished she had the power to turn back time and right her wrongs.

Suddenly, in a moment of lucidity everything was crystal clear. She was going to turn herself in. She had to, it was the only way. If they ever arrested another person in her place, she would never be able to look at herself in the mirror again, if somebody faced the punishment of a crime she had committed.

The minute she had made this decision, she was swept with a feeling of inner peace; it even brought a smile to her lips.

She light a candle and sat down on her chair, patiently waiting for morning to come.

She just sat there for hours, staring at nothing, her mind completely blank. Once the sun a rose and she thought it was a decent time to venture outside, she carefully got dressed, crept downstairs and quietly slipped out of the house without anyone noticing.

She stepped out on to the street, she shielded her eyes as they accustomed themselves to the bright sun, the town was waking up and it was already getting busy.

On her way to the police station, she crossed paths with many individuals she considered as her friends. As they politely tipped their hats or bowed their heads to greet her, she could not help but wonder if they'd still be this polite as soon as they found out what she had done.

When she finally arrived at her destination, she entered the building in a determined march, she had never been this sure of herself; every single ounce of doubt had evacuated her mind and body. She walked up to an officer who acknowledged her presence with a wild smile.

Unfortunately for him, she had no time for the frivolities of society today and no desire to be, even remotely, charming, she was here for a reason, she had a confession to make.

"Good morning officer, I come here bearing good news for you, what I'm about to tell you will allow you to close one of your on going investigations," she paused, as if she was allowing the young man to get prepared for what he was about to hear and then she said flatly "I murdered my husband."

She stopped to take a deep breath before going on, "I murdered Ashley Wilkes. I just couldn't bear it anymore, I had to, I was going crazy. So I went to the mills one night, at first I was just going to confront him with my feelings, I wanted answers to my questions, but when I got there, it was as if all the anger I had accumulated throughout my lifetime rushed through my blood in a wave of pure rage. I couldn't stop myself, I picked up the biggest heaviest stone I could carry and I crept into his office and I struck him with it. I hit him again and again until he crushed into a heap on the ground. He was dead, I had killed."

The coolness with which Melanie Wilkes had given her confession had cause the whole police station to go silent. Melanie Hamilton Wilkes, sweet kind harmless and defenceless little Miss Melly had murdered her husband, Ashley Wilkes.

The look of pure and utter shock on the young officer's face said it all.

The End

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**HAPPY APRIL FOOL'S DAY!!!!**

*insert evil laughter here*

Ain't I so evil?!

Pretty please with Rhett Butler on the top tell me you were in a state of "OMFG WTF?! What on earth is this rubbish? Wait-what?!! This is the end?" or something like that.

Ok, just to make things 100% clear, this chapter was just for fun, my little contribution to the wonderful April fool's day. It is not the end of this story, nor is it even a "real" chapter of it (yes I did an AU of my very own AU, I am _that_ self-absorbed, lol).

It's totally OOC, I had loads of fun writing it though, nevertheless I do think it may qualify for Alica and Corrin's 'What was I thinking?!' category.

The question is what do I do with it now … I can't leave it here, it'll be totally confusing in the future (when I upload a real chapter), and past April fool's it's a bit lame. I guess I'll retire it once I upload a new chapter :)


	12. The Arrival of the Fox

**A/N:** Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No it's a new chapter.

There's just something I don't like about this chapter … it's more of a set up chapter for the final leg of this story.

Concerning further updates, they shouldn't be to far away since I have "only" 4 weeks left of class and 3-4 weeks of exams left when I go back to University on Monday, so technically and hopefully by mid June I will have all the free time in the world. And this story will turn one, oh my god.

Sorry in advance to India Wilkes haters, she was a bitch, but I can't help but feel really sorry for her …

Thanks to everyone who reads this story, especially to those who take the time to review and a special thanks to Iris who nudged me in a review to get my act together and get on with this story.

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Ever since her brother Ashley had died, India Wilkes had been seeing a man in secret.

They would meet every couple of days in a discreet location not very far away from Aunt Pitty's home while the elderly woman was having a nap.

She did not want the whole of Atlanta to find out about what she had been up to and India did not want to risk being Mrs Elsing and Mrs Merriwether's new favourite topic for conversation; she had no desire to become the next Scarlett O'Hara, or whatever surname she was going by these days, she thought.

She just wanted the job done.

These clandestine rendezvous' were far from resembling any ordinary meeting between a man and a woman, they involved neither courtship nor even friendship –they were strictly business transactions.

Her companion –Fox hadn't been in this line of work for very long, but he had still managed to make a pretty good name for himself over the course of that short time.

India Wilkes had found out about him and his area of expertise in the most peculiar ways.

One day, she had been desperately flicking through pages of a dusty old novel, about an incredibly naïve man, who travelled the world, believing everything was at its best in the best of all possible worlds, despite all the atrocious things he went through during his journey, ironically enough, it had been Ashley who had suggested it to her, and she had never got round to picking it up until now.

She was trying to keep her mind from thinking about Ashley's murder, because every time she allowed her thoughts to wander, it wasn't grief which took over her body and her soul, but her blood would start boiling. She was absolutely enraged by the way the authorities were handling the investigation –or lack thereof.

Unfortunately she was unable to focus on anything long enough to actually take it in, she would read the same paragraph over and over again, at each time she would reach the end, she had forgotten how it had begun. She casually tossed the book aside and accidentally knocked over an ink bottle that had been sitting on the table. As the deep blue ink slowly spread across the floor soaking through the rug to the wooden floor underneath it, Aunt Pitty cried out, "Oh no, India! The ink! And I needed to write a letter …"

"Don't be so dramatic aunt Pitty, there is more ink in the cabinet for your letter," India sighed as she stood up and walked over to the cabinet, "I guess that I was wrong, that was our last bottle."

"Oh my, Oh my!" Aunt Pitty said as she started hyperventilating.

"For goodness sake Aunt Pitty, get a hold of yourself, we can get more tomorrow," India reasoned.

"But I have to write my letter today!" Aunt Pitty stated in a high pitched voice.

"Nonsense, tomorrow will do just as fine, there is no rush."

"But … but," Pitty Pat started getting flustered. "I think I might faint."

India rolled her eyes at the old woman and decided that it would be easier just to go along with her rather than start an argument, "Alright then, I'll go to the store an buy some ink."

"That's very well. I will go upstairs for a nap while you are away," she said recovering rather quickly from her near to fainting spell.

India entered the Kennedy Store anxiously; she was not in the mood to come face to face with Scarlett O'Hara. That woman threw herself at her brother all his life, had stolen both her and her sister's beau, and had the most scandalous lifestyle. She sighed in relief when she remembered that Scarlett would not be in the store as she was attending to Melly.

India had been absolutely outraged by the fact that Melanie Wilkes had preferred Scarlett's help to her own, after all she was Ashley's sister it was only natural that they would go through the mourning process together. It was not just that, India could just get her head around the fact that Melly preferred Scarlett's assistance with her grief to her own, it was unthinkable. India could not begin to comprehend how Melanie could even stand to be in the same room as Scarlett after everything she had done.

India Wilkes deeply and truly hated Scarlett O'Hara. It was odd since they had been rather good companions when they were young girls, long before dresses, bows and beaux had mattered. The event that had precipitated the demise of their friendship had been India's mother's death, which had propelled the young girl into the role of being the mistress of plantation.

During the long summer days, when she had to make sure everything was in order in the house, she would longingly glance out the window, and see her siblings, Scarlett, her sisters and other children from the county amusing each other while she was stuck inside. It was then that the bitterness had started to brew in her; Scarlett O'Hara always appeared to be having the most fun out of all the other youngsters, which was why she became the main target of India's envy, which would only worsen with time.

After all the years and everything that had happened, their relationship would never ever recover.

India quickly went to the place where the ink bottle usually were, the shelf was empty, so she went up to the front desk to get some assistance.

"Willy," she asked politely. "You wouldn't happen to have any extra ink bottles in the back, would you?'

"Why Miss Wilkes, I'm not sure. You wait here, while I go check," he said.

She nodded as he turned around and scampered off into the storage room.

India Wilkes was many things, but patient, she was not, she stood there, half leaning against the counter, she started taping her fingers against it in rhythm like she would on a piano. She sighed heavily and peered around the shop, the only other customers were a group of middle aged women, scoffing in a corner, damn Yankees, India thought. They were engrossed in what appeared to be an extremely interesting conversation, "… sssh, you shouldn't speak so loud, someone might hear us," the redhead pleaded.

"Well if they don't like what they hear, it's their own problem, they shouldn't be listening to other people's business, should they?" the bossy brunette stated. "So as I was saying, my sister Harriet, who lives in Boston, was telling me that Virginia Pollack, do you remember her?"

"Wasn't she the pretty girl from …?" asked the third woman.

"No that was her sister, Teresa, this one was ugly, Mother Nature certainly slapped her several times with the ugly shovel, she had an enormous nose, puffy cheeks and those ridiculously small beady eyes," the brunette cut in. "Well, anyway, Harriet was telling me that after her husband was brutally assassinated, when he was going home one night, it was this infamous, Mr Renard who helped her get over the grief."

"Is that the one they're calling the Fox back home?"

"He is indeed, he's French and as sly as anything. In less than two weeks he had Harriet's husband's killer behind bars, apparently it was a crime of passion, Harriet's husband was sustaining a very unorthodox relationship with his sister in law, and when her husband found out, he stabbed him to death," the brunette said as the other two women stared at her, their eyes as big as saucers.

Every single one of India's worries vanished as an idea began to germinate in her mind. She would wire this Fox or Renard person and get him to solve the mystery of Ashley's murder, only once the perpetrator was behind bars, would she be able to mourn properly and get on with her life.

As soon as Willy handed her the bottle and she had paid for it -there was no way in hell she would allow herself to be in debt to Scarlett O'Hara, she got Uncle Peter to drive her down to the station sent Mr Renard a telegram requesting his assistance in solving the mystery surrounding her brother's assassination.

His response was prompt and quick in coming and in no time they had arranged their first meeting.

On the day they had agreed to meet for the first time, the weather was wet and bitter, just as was India's mood. She had been pacing up and down the alley, where they were supposed to meet, for what seemed like an eternity. In her haste, as she was sneaking out the house during Aunt Pitty Pat's naptime, she had forgotten to take anything to protect herself from the rain, so much so that she was soon soaking from head to toe.

She was just about to give up and go home when the rain started to clear up, and she saw two figures appear at the other end of the alley. The two men who were now walking in her direction couldn't have been more at the antipodes from one another physically.

There was a tall one with broad shoulders who walked with pride in his every step, the other one, on the other hand, was short and scrawny and had to take two steps to keep up with every single one of his companion's long strides, so much so it looked as if he was running.

"Mrs Wilkes, I presume," the tall one said, in a distinct foreign accent, as he extended a gloved hand and offered a dashing smile and a flash of his sparkly white teeth. "Victor Renard, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Three words immediately popped into India's mind: pompous, pretentious and self absorbed, anymore and he would be kissing my hand, sniggered India internally as she retrieved her hand from his. "Miss Wilkes," she quickly corrected his mistake. "I thought we were supposed to be meeting in private," she added looking at the Fox's short companion.

"This is Raymond Martin, he works with me and is more than an essential ingredient to my recent success," he said smugly emphasising on the word 'success'. "I have known him all my life, no need to fear that he will reveal your secrets to the entire world, he's a loyal man, very trustworthy, and more importantly he doesn't speak a word of English."

India had to muster up every single ounce of self control in her body to prevent herself from sighing too heavily or rolling her eyes. She did not like this man and she doubted she ever would.

He cleared his throat and began, "So your brother has been murdered, and you need my assistance in putting his assassin behind bars …"

"Yes, well, you see," she cut in. "The police have not really being doing their job, they seem to be stuck in a dead end, they have no leads whatsoever and their investigations seems to be going nowhere, and I heard about what you did for that woman in Boston, and how quick you did it, so …"

"And how do you expect to pay for my services," he said flatly staring down at her worn black dress.

"I …" she stumbled as her cheeks turned a light shade of pink. She was embarrassed, before the war she had never had to worry about trivialities, such as money, but ever since her father had died, she had been confronted with a dilemma between what she wanted, what she needed and what she could afford, and a fancy private investigator was certainly not something she could afford.

"I don't take payment in nature, just in case you were wondering," he said slyly as he watched India's cheeks turn and even brighter shade of red. "Or did you think I would pity the spoilt Southern Princess turned poor by the mishaps of war and offer my services _pro bono_?"

The heat in her cheeks was becoming intolerable, and for a moment she was more than tempted to reach over and slap the man in the face before stomping off angrily to Aunt Pitty's, but no, she had to do go through with this, for Ashley, for herself. "You are not very polite, sir," was all she could manage.

"I don't need to be, I'm French, therefore I'm naturally charming," he laughed, arrogance oozing out of every single one of his words, India was unable to stop the nervous laugh which escaped from her lips.

"I'm taking the case," he then suddenly stated.

"You do know that I can't afford your regular fee?" she asked stunned.

"Just pay me whatever you can," he said, before adding, sure of himself. "I'll make up for the rest in good publicity of my work in the South after I solve this mystery in a record time. Now I'm going to need you to tell me everything you know about your brother and his murder …"

She conscientiously filled Fox in with every single detail that she thought would be relevant to Ashley's killing, "So this Scarlett O'Hara person has been chasing after you brother for some time now?"

"Scarlett Butler, she married now, and yes, she has been pursuing him ever since we were children, and she is the kind who would stop at no costs to get what she wants," India said.

"I see, well Miss Wilkes, I believe I have enough information to get started, if I need anything else I will be in touch with you, and I will keep you informed of the evolution of things."

As India's silhouette faded into the distance, Fox nudged Raymond who had stayed quiet during the whole meeting, "_Tu vois, je t'avais bien dis que venir ici était une bonne idée, ça promet d'être encore plus intéressant que ce j'avais initialement pensé_."*

TBC

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*_"You see, I had told you that coming here was a good idea, and it looks as if it's going to turn out to be even more interesting than I initially thought"_


	13. The Fox meets the Vixen

**A/N:** Either it's already June or my social life has gone down the drain …

I wonder which is the more likely option.

This first person to find the line inspired by Bridget's Jones' Diary is the best, and wins my eternal respect (or whatever)

Thank you to all my reviewers, I honestly think I have the best reviewers ever, you all always have very interesting comments and raise excellent points, and I love replying to them.

And to **MalaikaNina** who left a review, but did not sign in so I couldn't reply, no I don't think all French people are "arrogant and think they are "charming"", unless, I count myself among them (being half French, currently living in France etc. …). Actually, the only reason I allowed myself to write Renard that way (an over pompous arrogant snob who happens to be French) is because of my cultural heritage.

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Scarlett gazed up from behind the desk and look around her, it felt good to be back at the store, she sighed.

Melanie was nearly back to her usual self, running after everyone, worrying about their wellbeing before her own.  
Her transformation happened overnight. One evening Scarlett had left the Wilkes' home with Melly helplessly sobbing into her pillow, and the next morning when she had returned, Melanie had been as fresh as a primrose, her kind self, asking Scarlett how she was feeling.

Scarlett was sure that at any moment, her friend would have another breakdown and start weeping furiously again, but she didn't, she stayed strong and instead she sent Scarlett away.

When Melanie had told her she was feeling well and did not need her constant presence from dawn to dusk anymore, that she should take some time for herself; she had barely been able to contain the feeling of extreme joy and relief that burst in her chest.

She loved Melly, but staying in the house knitting and drinking tea had never been her sort of thing. She knew Melanie was still mourning the loss of her husband, you could still see the sadness and nostalgia in her eyes, especially when she looked at Beau, and that she needed someone she could rely on, but Scarlett also knew, that Melanie needed time to heal on her own, and that being constantly mollycoddled would not help her move on with her life.

Even though now she was more than visibly pregnant, Scarlett could not help herself from running off to her store as soon as the opportunity had presented itself, and as she looked around the room she used as an office, she smiled, her heart swelling with pride, this place was her baby.

True, it had been Frank who had first opened it, but it was she, Scarlett O'Hara, who had brought the place to its full potential.

If she had left it solely up to Frank, he would have run the place into the ground, by granting limitless credit to anyone who asked for it. By demanding that people pay their bills, and not being a pushover, she had created a prosper business, which brought in a fair amount of profit every year. This commerce would eventually be handed over to Ella, and Scarlett was more than proud to say that whatever should happen, she had ensured that her daughter would have something comfortable to lean on if times were ever hard.

As for Wade, as soon as he was of age, he would become the owner of half of Aunt Pitty's House, inherited from his father, and the lumber mills. He was going to be a well off young man, a very interesting party for all the young girls looking to marry, she smiled to herself.

No matter what anyone said about her and her mothering skills, she had always made sure her children would never be in dire straight, or in need. Nobody could take that away from her. She may not love her children in the same conventional way all the other women loved hers, but she loved them, in the best way she knew how. Making sure there was enough money to clothe them, and enough food in the cupboards to feed them, was, according to her, far more important than making sure than showering them with hugs and kisses and reading them fairy tales before they went to sleep.

She had no worries concerning Bonnie, and this new child she was carrying, they would never lack of anything, Rhett would always take care of them. She was sure he would always provide for Wade and Ella if need be, he was like that. But nevertheless, she felt that it was her responsibility to make sure they were taken care of.

She leaned back against her chair and rested her hands across her belly. God, she hated being pregnant. It made her feel awkward and out of place, constantly uncomfortable, hot and bothered. And then there was the labour. True, Mammy had said that her labours had been shamefully quick, but the pain had been unbearable. She thought back to the day Melly had given birth to Beau, and she winced at the memory of the atrocious pain she had witnessed her friend suffer through and almost die. She thought it was substantially unfair that women had to go through all this pain and suffering in their lives, yet they were still regarded as inferior by men, she'd like to see one of them go through labour, that would teach them a lesson.

She heard someone knock softly her on office door, "Miss Scarlett, there's some gentleman her to see you."

"Who is it?" she asked.

"I have no idea, Miss Scarlett, he says it's mighty important though," Willy's voiced echoed from the other side of the door.

"Very well Willy, bring him in," she said.

She picked herself up from her chair and went around the desk to greet her visitor, she found herself face to face with a man that she had never met before.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Butler," he said as he extended his hand to shake hers. "Allow me to present myself, I'm Victor Renard."

"And how may I be of assistance to you sir?"

"I am looking into Mr Ashley Wilkes death, and I would really appreciate if you would answer some questions to help me in my investigation," he said politely. His accent seemed oddly familiar; she had heard it somewhere before, she thought, in Savannah, it was the same accent as her grand-père Robillard's.

"You don't look like a policeman," Scarlett stated.

"That would be because I am not a policeman," he smiled. "I'm a private investigator."

His almost playful tone spiked Scarlett's interest, and she looked up at him with great curiosity. He was, undeniably, an extremely good looking man, tall with board shoulders, a light tan and a handsome face, in fact, in some aspects, he was not totally unlike Rhett, the same -a bit too full of himself, kind of man. "Who on earth did Ashley know and who is rich enough to hire a private investigator, and who cared enough about him to have his death looked into," she wondered internally.

"If it helps put Ashley's murderer behind bars, I'll answer your questions," she complied.

"How long have you known Mr Wilkes?"

"All my life, we practically grew up together," she replied.

"And what was your relationship with him?"

"We were old friends," she said.

"Just friends?" he asked, barely concealing the hidden meaning of his question.

"What exactly are you trying to imply, Mr Renard? You are aware of the fact that I am married," she said slight offended.

"Several times, or so I've heard," Renard said slyly. Scarlett eyed him up and down with fury in her gaze, he must have been talking about me to one of those peahens, she thought.

"That's none of your business," she said flatly.

"You didn't answer my question, Mrs Butler," he insisted.

"And I have no intention of dignifying it with an answer," she said adamantly.

"Should I take that as a 'yes' then?"

Scarlett looked up into his dark green eyes with venom, "No, you should absolutely not. He was a friend nothing more. If you're here to insult me, I will have to ask you to leave."

"Scarlett? What's wrong?" Rhett demanded as he suddenly appeared in the doorway. "I was just coming to see if you were ready to go home yet, who are you yelling at?"

It was then he noticed the stranger in his wife's office, and gave him a stern glance, "Is this man bothering you Scarlett?"

"I beg your forgiveness, Madam, if I offended you …" Renard began.

"Did this man say or do something to offend you," Rhett asked as he placed himself between his wife and the foreigner, before addressing Renard directly, "Did you do something to offend my wife, sir?"

"Rhett, it's nothing, he was just doing his job," she played down. She did not want Rhett to find out that the subject of her argument was her now non-existing romantic feelings for Ashley Wilkes. If Rhett was to find out, his reaction would only spike the private investigator's interest even further, and she did not feel like airing her dirty laundry in public today.

"And what might his job be exactly?" Rhett asked, directing his question at Scarlett and totally ignoring the man's presence in the room.

"I'm a private investigator," Renard said. "I am investigating the murder of Mr Ashley Wilkes." The way every single muscle in Rhett Butler's body tensed up as he had pronounced Mr Wilkes' name did not go unnoticed by the French man. "Was he a good friend or yours, sir?"

"I've known him for a long time," Rhett said dryly. "His passing was a great loss for his family and the community."

For a brief moment, which lasted no longer than a second, Rhett's discomfort was clearly visible on his face, fortunately for Victor Renard, this happened exactly as he was eying the other man up and down. He could not prevent a smile from forming at the corner of his lips; this interview was turning out to be even more interesting than planned.

"What interest could a French man possibly have in investigating the death of an honourable southern gentleman?" Rhett quizzed him nonchalantly.

"Does one have to have an interest when one is employed to do something?" he replied.

"And whom, may I ask, are you working for?"

"I am afraid, I am not at liberty to discuss the identity of my employer," Renard said enigmatically. "Would you be willing to answer some of my questions, Mr Butler?"

"I do not see how anything I could tell you could be of any assistance in finding out that killed Mr Wilkes," Rhett sighed as he pulled out a cigar.

"You have no idea, Mr Butler, how often the most insignificant details can help unveil the identity of a murderer."

Rhett cleared his throat, "Why don't we make an appointment at a later date, come and see me during working hours at the bank, where I have an office, I came here today to take my wife home, it is late already. And as you may or may not have noticed she's in a delicate condition, and needs her rest." Scarlett almost let out a snigger, when had she ever been in a delicate condition, but she remained silent, she was more than eager for Mr Renard to leave.

"Yes, of course, how inconsiderate of me. Mrs Butler, I beg for your forgiveness, once again. I will come back at a more appropriate time, and we can resume our conversation," he accompanied his words with an almost exaggerated tip of the hat. "Mr Butler, I will be sure to come and see you at the bank, I'm sure your answers will be extremely helpful in my enquiry."

Renard then slipped out of the room and the shop as swiftly as he had come in, leaving the Butlers alone.

"What did he ask you?" Rhett asked.

"Oh, you know, trivialities about Ashley. How long I have known him ..." she trailed off.

"How well you knew Ashley?" Rhett said, his voice full of accusation.

Scarlett shot him a look of disgust, "You just can't help yourself, can you? You always have to bring that up. You need to put the past behind us, he is dead, yet you still feel threatened by him.

"Do you blame me?"

Scarlett chose to ignore this last question, and turned away from him, "Will you take me home now please, I am tired."

He did not utter a word as he led her out to the carriage.

During the trip home, Scarlett wondered just what the private investigator meant when he had said he was sure Rhett's answers would help greatly in his investigation, surely he didn't think Rhett could know anything about Ashley's murder … Surely he couldn't possibly think that Rhett had anything to do with it, could he?


	14. Inner musings

**A/N:** Long time, no see, eh?

Well Summer 2009 is finally here, people.

I think I've lost my Gone with the Wind mojo, Alicia had to threaten to whip me to set me into motion, because the truth is that ever since the LOST season finale (if you watch Lost, you know what I'm talking about), I have not been able to write anything apart from Lost related stories.

I have the rest of this story mapped out though,I know exactly where I'm going, but the thrill is not there, which makes me sad. But don't let that unfinished House MD fic on my profile fool you, I am not a quitter, I have come this far, so I'm determined to finish this!!

Thanks to everyone who takes a moment of their time to review, you guys are fabulous and have been since day one, I can't believe I have been writing this for a year now, I honestly never thought it would go on for so long, because if I had, I probably never would have launched myself into it, lol.

I'll admit I'm a bit p-off, because I wanted to post this on this storie's 1st birthday, which I thought was today, but apparently it was yesterday. *sigh*

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Ever since that French investigator, Victor Renard had paid her a visit at the store the other day, she had not been able to shake the uneasy feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach.

She honestly did not know what to make of his visit; she was not even exactly sure what it meant. She supposed it made sense that he would come and ask her questions about Ashley, especially since she had known him all her life.

Renard's questions had lacked the casual tone that they should have had if he his sole purpose had been to seek trivialities about Ashley and his life, instead their subtext had been crystal clear. It was obvious she was not the first person he had come to in the course of his investigation. He had not been very subtle when he had asked her if her only ties to Ashley had been ties of friendship, the tone he had used implied that he already knew the answer and was merely assessing her own honesty.

She wondered if the eventuality of her admitting to him that she had once loved Ashley had even crossed his mind. Surely not, he was probably just counting on the reaction of outrage that if would provoke in her to prove his point, and she had served him on a silver platter exactly what he had been looking for.

Scarlett had been pacing up and down her room for the past half hour, she could not get any rest, and the same thought kept resurfacing in her mind, what if Rhett had killed Ashley.

It was true he had despised the man, from the very instant he had met him, they were too different to ever see eye to eye, and her infatuation with the plantation golden boy had only made things worse.

For years she had used her love for Ashley Wilkes as a last resort against Rhett, every time she would fail to come up with a cunning comeback to one of his snide comments she would rub her devotion for the other man into Rhett's smug face, and satisfaction would rise in her as a dark shadow would take over Rhett's eyes.

Rhett hated Ashley, but he also thought the man was a waste of space, so why would he go as far as to murder him, if he did not think he was worth the trouble. Also, Scarlett could not imagine Rhett hitting another man with a stone until death followed; she thought that if Rhett was ever to commit murder, he would do so by the means of a revolver or a sword fight, a rock was not a worthy weapon for a man with Rhett Butler's class.

But who knows what a person is capable of doing in desperate situations, her mind trailed off once again. What would be his motive for murdering Ashley?

Surely not her. Rhett had made it clear long ago that he didn't care for her or even her virtue anymore as long as her actions did no harm to Bonnie's future and reputation. That being said, she was rather fond of the idea that two men would duel over her graces and charms.

She imagined herself as one of the princesses from the fairytales of her childhood, the dark knight and the white knight fighting to obtain the rights to her heart. Although she was not certain who was the white and who was the dark knight in this metaphor, since she loved neither of them. The flame she had once carried for Ashley was now as dead as he was, and the affection she had once had for Rhett dissipated under years of hard feelings and resentment.

Nevertheless she liked the general idea.

She did not know what to think anymore, Renard's interest in her private affairs and his obvious innuendos had fogged her mind. She had seen how Rhett had flinched when he had heard Ashley's name, but even more she had seen how this had spiked Renard's curiosity.

That's what he had come fishing for, Renard must be convinced that Rhett is behind Ashley's death, she thought. But this conclusion did not bring satisfaction and peace of mind along with it, instead it triggered worry and apprehension in her –what if Rhett really had murdered Ashley?

She remembered back to the night of Ashley's murder.

That was the night Rhett had come home stinking drunk -the drunkest she had ever seen him, he couldn't even stand up all by himself anymore. And the alcohol on his breath alone would have been enough to anaesthetise most of the boys who had to undergo amputation during the war without any pain relief whatsoever.

Could he really have assassinated Ashley Wilkes?

After all, you never know what a person is capable of, and even less when the person is under the influence.

What would become of her if Rhett went to jail? She would be left along to face the cruel harpies of the Old Guard, who would not only blame her for Ashley's death, but also for Rhett's imprisonment.

But more importantly, if he had killed Ashley, should she be afraid? She had seen his rage on the night of Ashley's last birthday, she had been terrified, petrified of what he might do to her. Should she be afraid now?

Meanwhile, Rhett was downstairs in the dinning room, with a glass of Brandy in his hand, also rehashing the day's events, especially Renard's impromptu visit.

Had they met in other circumstances, Rhett was sure he would have probably got along with the man, he appeared to be a well read man, a sharp individual who had the eye for details. But not above stooping as morally low as he needed to to get the answers he was seeking.

Yes, had he met him a couple of years ago, not only would Rhett have more than likely befriended the man, they would have probably become friends.

Rhett sipped his drink slowly as he wondered who on earth could the private investigator be working for.

Surely not Miss Melanie, she was to stricken by grief to envisage seeking extra help to find out who had murdered her beloved husband.

Aunt Pitty Pat? Surely not. That woman couldn't hold a thought longer than she could hold her breath, and she would never have the nerve, nor the means to hire a private detective.

The person who had employed Renard had to be someone with sufficient resources to pay him. It could be Henry Hamilton, yes, perhaps it was him indeed.

Rhett made a mental note to remember to look into that when he would be in town the next day.

His thoughts then wandered off to what Renard could have possibly said to upset Scarlett, granted the fact that Scarlett was the sort of person who was easily upset, but nevertheless, he wondered what the man had said or insinuated to get her in such a state.

Of course, it was to be expected that if Renard was investigating Ashley Wilkes' death that he would sooner rather than later come to Scarlett with questions. No doubt had he spoken with a member or two of the old guard first, and they had been more than delighted to casually bring up in the course of the conversation the incident, which had occurred on Ashley's last birthday.

The old hens of Atlanta truly and bitterly hated Scarlett O'Hara, and had ever since she had set her foot on the platform of the train station at the young age of seventeen.

"Actually," he thought. "They're probably convinced that Scarlett is the one who killed Ashley."

This thought was enough to make him laugh out loud. He couldn't in a thousand years imagine Scarlett murdering Ashley, or anyone for that matter. She was too delicate an individual, and wasn't all that fond of getting dirty.

Perhaps, it was the fact that Renard had suggested that Scarlett was in love with Ashley that had set Scarlett off this afternoon. That would certainly explain why she had not been willing to discuss her outburst with him on the way home.

Whatever Victor Renard was looking for, only time would tell if he found it.


End file.
